Are You Sure This Is A Good Idea?
by BuffPidgey
Summary: For political reasons, Britain asks Amestris for a bodyguard. For political reasons, Amestris sends the Fullmetal Alchemist. Unfortunately for both sides, neither Harry nor Ed really like this idea. Unfortunately for both boys, they're stuck with it. Crossposted on AO3
1. Chapter 1

And so begins yet another crossover. What is this- 2008? This fic was partially inspired by "There May Be Some Collateral Damage" by metisket, partially inspired by "unhinged" by red pen, and partially inspired by all the hp/fma crossovers I've read. Further author notes are at the bottom.

 **Chapter Warnings:** Canon-typical violence, and The Dursleys

/

On the subject of transportation, Ed was a connoisseur. Sort of. At the very least, he had spent the last three years traveling crisscrossed Amestris on various means including trains, cars, and even feet. So he was entirely sure that any mode of travel that made you feel like _that_ was completely unnecessary.

Ed picked himself up from the ground where he was trying not to throw up and glared at his current companion.

Mustang, bastard that he was, had managed to stick the landing, and looked completely unfazed at portkey travel.

"Come along, Fullmetal," he said, walking towards the creepiest house Ed had ever seen. "We don't want to be rude."

Twelve hours later, Ed was traveling sensibly in a car- the most comfortable car he'd ever been in, he had to admit- through a suburb of eerily similar houses to stay at the house of the boy he was supposed to be guarding.

/

In the interests of Amestrian-British relations, the Colonel had explained. Britain had been making diplomatically upset noises at Amestris since the Civil War. With the advent of some other new political turmoil that Ed hadn't paid attention to, those diplomatic noises were getting louder. In order to make them stop, the military was loaning the damp island one of its top alchemists to bodyguard one of its VIPs who was under some sort of threat, possibly by a terrorist cell. In a suspicious stroke of "luck", the alchemist in question was also 15, and fit in effortlessly with the VIP in question's primary location.

Which was a school.

Ed had told his superior officer exactly what to do with this assignment, until Mustang had explained two things. The first was that the theoretical terrorist cell was lead by someone who seemed to have been doing something unseemly with soul transmutations. Secondly, that the school in question was rumored to have the best research library in Britain.

After this explanation, Ed was still unsure. Alchemy in the far West had diverged wildly from alchemy in Amestris, or even alkahestry in Xing. The results were almost always impermanent, and those who practiced in the West called it 'magic', not alchemy. It wasn't likely that a library full of books about impermanent temporary changes and tricks would be able to supply him with a permanent sollution or answers on how to get his and Al's bodies back.

Then Breda uttered something, something about how the British government liked to keep things on the down low, and how it was a pity that Al couldn't go with because 7-foot-tall suits of armor weren't 'discrete'.

Ed objected all over again.

In all, it took Mustang close to three full days of shouting matches, bribes, and sending Hawkeye to team up with Al to get Ed to just do the body guarding gig already.

Part of the gig had been learning English. It turned out that Mustang and Hawkeye had started already, which Ed learned when Mustang began making quips that Ed was sure were about his height in a language he didn't understand.

Even though Ed had never really studied different languages before, he put in the effort. The language was a weird jumble of contradictory grammar rules, but it wasn't anywhere close to as complicated as alchemy. With Al's help he managed to have a very rough grasp of English within a week. Mustang pronounced it "passable" and had declared it was time to leave.

It turned out that while Ed was practicing English, Mustang had been making arrangements with whatever kind of millitary or government or whatever Britain had about their cover story and transportation. The transportation Ed had been unimpressed with. The cover story even more so.

Even though the actual bodyguarding mission was solo, the cover story… wasn't. Instead of sending him off alone, the first phase of the mission involved him working with Mustang. For two weeks.

He was supposed to pretend to be Mustang's nephew for two weeks while staying in the VIP's house. The ruse was something that the British side was insisting upon. Ed was pretty sure that it was unnecessary and something that would get in the way eventually, but Mustang had told Ed to quit complaining and follow orders, which Ed interpreted to mean Mustang agreed, but didn't want to admit it.

Ed made sure to include that story in his first letter to Al that night.

The rest of the cover story wasn't much better. It involved Mustang being from the same company where the VIP's relative worked, so they would have an excuse to be staying at the same house. Again, Ed thought it was all overcomplicated and underhanded.

The VIP in question was named Harry Potter. He was supposed to be a big deal in the "magical community" of Britain. Ed had skimmed that part of the packet in case Potter was famous for some kind of magical discovery, but it seemed he was just famous because of his deceased parents. That got a twinge of sympathy from Ed, but no real desire to follow up on the story. Instead, he looked over a list of things to be aware of in guarding the boy, which included mainly the terrorist group that was targeting the kid, headed by the power hungry dickhead that had reportedly died then came back to life. Ed had been supremely skeptical about that part, but Mustang had said there was something to the claim.

Apparently, that had been one of the reasons Mustang had volunteered him for this job. Ed wouldn't admit it, but he had to agree with the colonel's reasoning- it's not like there were many alchemists out there who had any understanding of soul transmutation. Certainly there were no state alchemists available.

He had mixed feelings about this part of the report. It sounded like human transmutation to him, or something very similar. There was a possibility that it could be the lead he was looking for, but his understanding of the notoriously temporary nature of magic in the West was a fertile place for doubts to grow.

Of course, because this was his life, and because this was the military and because Mustang could never let him do anything reasonable, before any of this information became relevant, he and Mustang would be spending ten days at Potter's "muggle" residence, doing their best to pretend they weren't state alchemists before they would be transported to some kind of headquarters.

It was an understatement to say that Ed was not looking forward to any of this.

/

Harry wasn't sure what to make of Uncle Vernon's new guests. He hadn't been told any of the details, but Grunnings had decreed that Vernon would host a high-ranking member from a foreign branch of the company for a little over a week. Except it turned out the bigwig brought his nephew along, too.

They looked nothing alike- the Grunnings man was tall, dark haired and dark eyed with ramrod posture, a neat haircut, and an easy smile. The nephew had golden hair long enough to be pulled back in a braid, with bangs that fell into his eyes. He also wore a sweatshirt that was obviously several sizes too big for him. The sleeves fell past his fingertips, completely obscuring his hands.

Harry hadn't managed to get a better impression than that so far. He'd been instructed to stay as out of the way as possible. While he was desperate for any news of Voldemort, Harry knew that it was unlikely the Dursleys would be watching much news while entertaining guests, and so welcomed the respite from chores. Instead, he wandered around the neighborhood, occasionally nicking a newspaper from a recycling bin if he saw one. None of the papers had anything that even hinted at Death Eater activity.

He should be pleased that no one had died yet, but all he could feel was tension as he waited for Voldemort to make his move.

Hours later, he made his way back to Number 4 and was greeted by an unfamiliar figure lounging on the step. Unable to really make the figure out in the gathering gloom, Harry approached cautiously until he recognized the figure swimming in the sweater as Uncle Vernon's guest's nephew.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, as he approached.

The other boy closed his book with a thump, and Harry noticed for he first time that underneath those long sleeves were a pair of gloves as well. Not winter gloves, but it was still baffling to see someone dressed so thoroughly in summer.

"I was waiting for you," he said. His accent reminded Harry of the Bulgarians who had been in Hogwarts for the tournament last year. "Was better than sitting through dinner with… all of them." He waved the book in his gloved hand back at the door.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of any of that. "Did you walk out on dinner just for that?" he eventually asked.

The other boy shrugged. "Like I said, better than sitting with them."

"Do you even know my name?" Harry asked.

"Do you know mine?"

"Good point. Harry Potter." He stuck out a hand, then fumbled as the other boy stuck out his left hand, the right still holding onto the book.

"Edward Elric, nice to meet you."

/

After dinner, which Edward ate voraciously, Harry learned a few more things about these people who had appeared unceremoniously into his life. For one, Edward didn't share a name with his Uncle, whose name was Mustang, not Elric. Harry thought that made him sound like an American cowboy.

He also discovered that Ed had been brought along because he was going to attend a British school in the fall, and didn't seem very pleased to be spending that much time with his Uncle. Harry sympathized. He hated spending summers with his relatives too.

The most surprising thing that Harry learned about Ed came the next day when Ed showed up to his room and asked to borrow some of his potions textbooks.

"My- my what?"

"Potions textbooks?" Ed repeated. "Am I using the right word? The book for-"

"No, that's the right word. But. You're a wizard? You're going to Hogwarts?"

Ed shrugged. "Yes, I am going to Hogwarts. I don't know about wizard. I am alchemist."

Harry wasn't sure what the difference was. He's sure Hermione would tell him… when she started talking to him again. "Oh. But why would your parents send you to Hogwarts now? Haven't you heard the news?"

"No. What news?" Harry opened his mouth to answer, but- "Wait, you mean… What's-his-name. Long, hard to pronounce. Everyone thought he was dead?"

He had never heard Voldemort described quite like that, but it wasn't exactly wrong. "Voldemort. Yeah. He's back. If you were out of England, then why would you come here?"

Ed shrugged. "It was decided for me."

He refused to say anything else about it. In the end, Harry gave him not just last year's potions textbook, but all of them, down to the first year book. Ed vanished into the guest room he shared with Mr. Mustang, yet somehow managed to reappear when Harry went for a walk around the neighborhood.

It was weird how Ed managed to be in so many places Harry didn't expect him to be. Somehow, wherever he settled, Ed usually showed up within ten minutes. Even if he wasn't overly fond of people who might be following him, Harry would make an exception for Ed, since the presence of houseguests tended to make Dudley leave him alone.

Usually.

Today it looked like Ed's presence wasn't going help much, since it seemed Dudley was looking to pick a fight. He and his goons surrounded the two of them, though Ed didn't seem very impressed.

"What's this?" Piers asked with false delight. "Has the freak found a little friend?"

With this, Ed shot up from the swing he had been sitting on, fists clenched. "Why you-! You call me microscopic?" Harry grabbed the sleeve of Ed's baggy sweater, knowing that Dudley and his friends wouldn't stop now they had found some kind of button to push.

"Really, Harry. What would Cedric think of you cheating on him?" Dudley asked. "He is your boyfriend right? You keep calling out his name in your sleep, after all. 'Oh, Cedric, don't kill Cedric no no'!"

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ed's face go slack in disbelief before the look was replaced with a vicious glare. Ed might have started saying something, too, but Harry wasn't sure of the specifics, because he was seized by fury at Dudley laughing at something he couldn't possibly understand. He grabbed his wand and jammed it in his cousin's face.

Peirs Polkiss gabbled something at Dudley that Harry was too pissed to care about before leaving his line of vision completely.

Instantly, the laughing bravado fell from Dudley's face. "Wh-what are you doing?" he hissed. "You're n-not supposed to-"

They were interrupted by a wretched groan that sent a chill down Harry's spine. When he looked over, Ed had collapsed. "Nina..." he whimpered.

Dudley grabbed at his shirt. "Wh-what did you do? What are you doing?" he panted. Fog puffed from his mouth as he, too, keeled over.

The chill- it wasn't from worry, it was from something- worse.

Long evening shadows seemed to pool together until evening was almost as dark as night. Harry raised his wand as cloaked figures glided across the park towards him and the two collapsed boys at his feet.

Then one of the figures burst into flames.

/

Colonel Roy Mustang, distinguished alchemist and celebrated war hero, beat a hasty retreat out the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive. He wished he could withdraw entirely from this situation, but he knew that this was only a diversion. He would have to return from this particular mission all too soon.

In an effort to get away from Vernon Dursley's caustic remarks (and his own urge to fry the man) he had volunteered to find the boys and bring them in for dinner. It wasn't the longest respite, but it was a breather Roy was sure he needed, in order to brace himself for dinner.

The schedule he had worked out with the Order stretched before him like an insurmountable mountain. Another week here before anyone would be arriving to escort Harry- and his Amestrian companions- to Grimmauld Place. Roy hadn't known how horrible Potter's relatives were before he agreed to this. When he went home, Roy knew he would demand hazard pay from Dumbledore himself for what that man was making him go through.

With these thoughts running through his head, Roy was unprepared as he reached the park. Seeing Fullmetal collapse startled him into stillness for a moment. The Dursley boy followed Fullmetal to the ground, spurring Roy across the grass.

Something had him on edge as he ran to the swing set. He couldn't yet see what kind of threat had him so on edge, but he hadn't survived Ishval to ignore his instincts now. He pulled a glove out of his pocket. The shadows seemed to lengthen as Potter stood guard. He, at least, seemed potentially capable of running should the need arise, though Roy was unsure of what Potter would be potentially running from.

That uncertainty lasted all of ten seconds as tall hooded figures glided through the park towards the boys. The shadowed evening seemed to plunge completely into night. Roy wasn't sure who or what they were, and he didn't really need to. He snapped.

The one closest to him went up in flames with a screech Roy knew for a fact was inhuman. He knew, from terrible experience, all the soul-shredding sounds people made as they burned to death. They echoed in his head, like he was standing in Ishval right now. Could almost smell the smoke and ash drifting through the air to settle on his hair, on his clothes. He would never get them clean, never get his hands clean of all the blood, even though he wore gloves-

A silver shape rushed by, close enough for Roy to touch. He pulled himself back to the present, back from the scorching and scorched desert to the pristine lawn in time to see a stag made entirely of opaque silvery light throw one of the ominous figures with its horns. Potter was still standing, grim determination on his face as the stag's attack drove the remaining creature into a swift retreat.

The other one, the one he had set aflame, seemed to have been reduced to a fine pile of ashes, Roy noted, dispassionately. Human remains were never this uniformly burnt. Chunks of bone, remains of clothes, such things were rarely completely reduced to ash.

"Mr. Mustang!" Potter called out. "Are you alright?" The boy took a step towards him, but seemed hesitant to leave Edward and his cousin unguarded.

Roy straightened his shoulders, striding over to where his subordinate had fallen. "I'm fine," he said. "What happened here?"

"Dementors," Potter said, as if that explained everything. "Are you a wizard too? Where's your wand?"

"That's not important right now," Roy said as he reached Edward's fallen form. He checked the boy's pulse- elevated, but steady. There were tear tracks running down his face, but Roy couldn't see any injuries.

Before he could ask another question, he was interrupted. The voice was pitched up with the stressed tones of someone who was dealing with an emergency far above their rank.

"Don't put your wand away, you stupid boy! What if there are more of them around? Oh, I am going to _kill_ Mudungus Fletcher!"

/

Mrs. Figg was the third secret magical person Harry had found in Little Whinging in three days, and according to her ranting, there was supposed to be yet _another_ wizard hanging around. He was tired of it.

As if Ed and Mr. Mustang weren't enough- if Mr. Mustang was even a wizard. He hadn't answered Harry's question about his wand, and Harry hadn't seen one on the man, despite how he had set a dementor on fire, somehow. He also seemed strangely ignorant of dementors for a wizard. Mrs. Figg knew about dementors, even if she was a squib and couldn't see them.

She and Mr. Mustang were quietly arguing between themselves over Harry's head as he and Mrs. Figg schlepped Dudley back to Number Four. Mr. Mustang carried Ed over his shoulders, which seemed to be another point towards the man not being magical, as Harry had never known a wizard to actually carry anyone when they could use magic instead.

At the whipcrack sound of apparition Mr. Mustang tensed and raised a gloved hand, though Harry was still not quite sure how he planned to ward off an attack without a wand. Instead of an actual threat, one of the shadiest individuals Harry had ever seen stepped out of the shadows.

"Mudungus Fletcher!" Mrs. Figg snapped from under Dudley's wide arm. "You feckless layabout!"

The wizard, the supposed Mudungus Fletcher, held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "Sorry there, Harry. 'ad a great deal on some cauldrons, an'-"

"The dementors could have kissed one of the boys!" Mrs. Figg cried.

Mudungus scowled, not meeting Mrs. Figg's eyes. "Wha' about them, then?" he asked, gesturing to Mr. Mustang and the still unconscious Ed. "Ain't they supposed to be on duty too?"

Harry glanced up at Mr. Mustang. The man's face had that peculiar stillness Harry had come to associate with Snape before the potions master said something truly spiteful. "No," the man said eventually. "Fullmetal is not on duty until the school year starts. Until then, Potter is _your_ responsibility to guard. A responsibility you have failed, putting Potter at risk, but two other boys also."

Mrs. Figg picked up where Mr. Mustang left off as Mudungus shrunk in on himself. "The least you can do now is get word to Dumbledore and the Order!" she snapped.

With a muttered "Awright" Mudungus apparated away, leaving Harry with a lot more questions, and a growing frustration at how everyone around him seemed to know exactly what was going on in his life while he was kept in the dark.

The party managed to limp their way to Number Four, and parted ways with Mrs. Fig, who muttered about owls and floo and worthless watchwizards. Mr. Mustang rang the doorbell and pushed his way past an astonished Aunt Petunia as soon as the door was opened. He carefully laid Ed out on the sofa, not heeding Aunt Petunia's stringent rules about shoes on the furniture.

Instead of scolding her guest, Aunt Petunia turned on Harry, falling on Dudley with a shriek of dismay. "My poor Duddikins!"

The commotion brought Uncle Vernon to the front room, where of course he began yelling. Harry didn't pay attention to what he was yelling about; he'd heard all of his Uncle's material plenty of times. Before he really got going, Mr. Mustang interrupted by striding past Vernon like the man wasn't even there, stopping in front of Harry.

"You know what those things were. Do you know how to treat… whatever is happened?" he asked.

"Chocolate," Harry said automatically. "Chocolate helps after dementor attacks."

Mr. Mustang turned to Vernon. "You heard him," he said while Harry's uncle turned some very interesting shades of dark red. "Get some chocolate. And some for your son." Surprisingly, Uncle Vernon did, muttering about freaks bringing danger to hardworking normal folk the whole time.

And because this situation was somehow not bad enough, an owl swooped through the still-open door, dropping an ominously familiar letter for Harry to catch. It was from the Ministry expelling him for underage magic in front of a muggle, because of course it was.

"What is that?" Mustang asked, and Harry handed the letter over. He might as well. Maybe if he was expelled and kicked out, Mr. Mustang might take him back to his country and he could study there. Learning a whole new language might be hard, but Harry supposed if he wasn't going to know what was going on around him, it might as well be because people were actually speaking another language.

"D'you think I should leave?" he asked, half thinking to himself out loud. He didn't want to lose his wand, and the only way he could think to prevent it was running away.

"No," Mustang replied immediately, still scanning the letter. "Do you have any way to send word to your a- your friends?"

Right- Hedwig. Harry sprinted up the stairs without another word, and scribbled off three quick notes for the owl to deliver. When he returned, Mr. Mustang was shaking Ed's shoulder gently, trying to coax him awake.

At first, it seemed like Ed would stay unconscious, before he abruptly shot upright, with a strangled cry of "Nina!" Mr. Mustang drew back, one hand clenching into a fist as all the energy seemed to leave Ed. He curled in on himself, one leg drawing close to his chest. He muttered something in what was probably Amestrian.

Mr. Mustang replied in the same language, offering Ed the chocolate. Ed turned his head away.

"Eat it," Harry urged, "it helps."

"You haven't had dinner in any case," Mr. Mustang said, pressing the partially unwrapped chocolate bar into his nephew's hand. "Eat, Vsogart."

"You haven't either," Ed muttered; a much more lucid response than Harry really expected. He still took a bite of the chocolate, and it wasn't long before the entire bar was gone.

The second owl arrived then, with a note from Mr. Weasley in scrawled all uppercase letters, telling Harry to remain in the house, and to not surrender his wand.

Uncle Vernon glared at the owl as it flew back out into the night. He rounded on Harry. "Boy, I don't know what kind of Dismembers you called down tonight, but your days of bringing danger to this house are _over_!"

"It's not like I _chose_ to be here!" Harry snapped. "It's not like I _like_ staying here!"

"Not in front of the guests!" Aunt Petunia hissed, ever worried about the neighbors getting wind of any of the Dursleys' dirty laundry. Mr. Mustang watched the scene, dark eyes unreadable. Ed looked on as well, knees drawn to his chest and arms draped over them. His one visible fist was clenched.

Harry had no idea what to make of that, but he didn't really care. He had never cared about the Dursleys' reputation and all the grief it had brought him over the years. He was tired of minding it, he was tired from dealing with the dementors, and he resented everyone making decisions about his life for him.

Another owl swooped through the kitchen, giving Harry yet another Ministry letter. This one graciously allowed him to keep his wand until the 12th of August. Great. More adults deciding what to do with him.

"I don't care!" Vernon had been discussing the family's standing with his wife, it seemed. "The boy needs to leave, and he needs to leave, now!" He reached for Harry.

Before Harry could dodge, a hand gripped Vernon's wrist so tightly it was hard to see where the white flesh ended and the white glove began. "I do not think so," Mr. Mustang said. "This boy just saved your son's life. He is your nephew. He is child. And you would throw him out to the street?"

Uncle Vernon sputtered.

"I have seen and done many bad things in my time, but to throw family-"

"He's no family of mine!" Vernon snapped, rounding on Mr. Mustang instead. Harry was left with a strange unfulfilled anticipation when the shouting match suddenly shifted from him.

"You throw a child out into the night?" Mustang snarled right into Vernon's purple face.

From the sofa, Ed uncurled and snapped something in Amestrian that Mustang ignored.

"He has his freak friends to help him! He doesn't need us-"

A final owl swooped into the kitchen, and dropped a bright red envelope. A howler.

Howlers were bad enough in the open space of the Great Hall. In the relatively small house, the words seemed to fill every space.

"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."

/

AN: Constructive criticism is welcome, but please note that the errors I have Ed and Roy make when speaking are on purpose. Learning a whole new language is very hard, even if you are a smartypants alchemist. I've really stretched the timeline on how quickly a person can become fluent or master a language here, but I can't bring myself to have them speak "perfect" English. Partially because I know that my German will never be perfect.

Speaking of languages, usually people choose German to represent Amestrian, but I've decided against that rout for several reasons. The first of which is that for this crossover to work the way I want it to, Amestris has to exist in "the real world"- or at least "the real world as represented in Harry Potter". Since Harry Potter never said anything about a huge desert next to Germany, I had to find another place that would suit for Amestris.

I chose an area that I am assuming would have been part of The Great Game between Russia and Britain in the 1800s, which gives me: A reason for Amestris to Suddenly Exist (like canon), A geography that matches Amestris in canon, and, A language that would very likely NOT be German. For the curious, I'm using Russian words written in the latin alphabet. "Vsogart" is butchered, latinized Russian for Full (Vso) Metal (Gart).

Like in "The Dragon King's Temple" by Kyral who used phonetic Japanese to stand in for a language, the Russian words are just a stand-in for "real" Amestrian, though if anyone who actually speaks Russian wanted to give me some input that would be lovely.


	2. Chapter 2

So far the plan is to update every 10th and 20th of the month. Let's see how far we get with that.

Before we begin, last chapter I totally forgot to thank my wonderful beta, vis, whose ao3 account is formally viscountfrancisbacon, for reasons. If you like One Piece, there are some dang good cute crew stories over there. Thank you vis, for ripping my chapters to shreds so that I might reform them into something elegant.

 **Chapter warnings:** Implications of canon-typical violence

/

The Dursleys had gone to bed, but Harry had no intention of sleeping yet. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for- if h was waiting at all. If he was, instead, trying to avoid sleep and the nightmares that were sure to follow from the dementor encounter.

Mr. Mustang seemed to have a similar idea. He slowly nursed a mug of black coffee, staring blankly into middle distance. Ed was still on the couch. Harry wasn't sure if the other boy was dozing or not; he couldn't see Ed's eyes through the shaggy bangs that fell across his face.

Harry was sure that Ed would be more comfortable in the guest bedroom, but every time Harry had suggested moving, he'd only received a negative-sounding grunt, so he had given up. He had been tempted to ask Ed who Nina was, but he wasn't sure he would like the answer. Whoever she was, Ed had probably seen something terrible happen to her.

It was while he was trying not to speculate about Nina's fate that Harry heard it- a rustle at the door.

He started to stand up, but Mr. Mustang held one hand out in a tense 'wait' gesture. Ed had uncurled from his silent couch ball and was standing. Nobody moved, all straining to hear what was happening.

A great crash echoed through the kitchen. Harry could have sworn he heard silverware clattering on the floor.

"Damn it, Tonks!" a voice hissed as the echoes faded.

"Sorry, sorry," another unfamiliar voice said.

Mr. Mustang still had one hand out, as if to hold back Harry's curiosity, but the tightness across his shoulders had relaxed slightly. "Who's there?" he demanded while Harry inched forward to peer into the shadowed kitchen.

"Lumos." Wandlight cut through the shadows to reveal-

"Professor Moody!"

Alastor Moody made a sound that might have been a cough or a chuckle. "Hard to call myself a professor when I never did any teaching, boy."

"Oh. Right."

"You know them?" Ed asked, walking over to stand next to Harry, who now realized why Ed had stayed by the sofa initially. The other boy had loud footsteps, even on carpeting. He wondered how he had never registered that before now.

"I do, that's Alastor Moody and- Professor Lupin! You're here too?"

Lupin smiled. He looked much more haggard than when Harry had seen him last, but Harry hoped that was just from the harsh shadows created from the light from Moody's wand.

"Hello, Harry."

"Before we get any further," Moody interrupted before the reunion could get anywhere, "We gotta make sure they aren't dark wizards in disguise."

Lupin looked like he wanted to sigh, though of course he was much too polite to actually do it. It was amazing how much nuance Lupin could get across without even speaking. Instead, he asked, "Harry, what form does your patronus take?"

"A stag."

"And these two- they've been here for how long?" Moody asked.

Harry shrugged. "More than a few hours," he said. "And we haven't really had anything you could hide polyjuice in."

Moody didn't seem pleased with that answer, but he never seemed pleased, so Harry supposed it would have to do. "Alright," he growled. "Where's yer stuff?"

"Upstairs, in my room. Why?" Harry asked.

"We're taking you someplace… safer," Lupin said.

Part of Harry wanted to dance and crow in happiness. Another part wanted to yell about adults deciding things _for_ him again. Instead of doing either of those things, Harry went upstairs, where he wouldn't have to think about things while he got his stuff together.

He was halfway up the stairs when someone stopped him.

"Wotcher, Harry, wait up!" a witch with purple hair whisper-yelled at him. She smiled and extended a hand. "Call me Tonks," she said, shaking his automatically offered hand. "Auror, fresh out of academy."

While Tonks magicked his clothes into his trunk, she told him the most recent chapter of her life story and demonstrated her strange, but useful, talent. Harry thought it was kind of nice to meet someone else in the wizarding world who had a rare talent. She didn't speak parsletongue, but it was kind of cool to know that there were other weirdos out there, even in the wizarding world.

As they came back down the stairs, Harry carrying Hedwig's cage and Tonks levitating Harry's trunk, Harry saw that both Ed and Mr. Mustang had traveling cases as well.

"You're coming with?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ed replied. He sounded better after the chocolate, but not by much. "You got your things?"

Harry nodded, but Ed had turned his attention back to whatever Moody and Mr. Mustang were discussing. A discussion that very noticeably stopped as soon as Harry was close enough to hear. Again, he felt the sting of anger at people keeping things from him, but he ignored it. He was leaving the Dursleys. _Finally_. He didn't want to spoil that.

"Hey," Ed said, now that words had seemingly returned to him. "Why aren't the rest of the… them screaming about noises?"

Tonks made an apologetic-sounding murmur while Lupin cleared his throat. "I am- not unskilled with silencing charms. And putting them around certain rooms. I put a reversed variant around the Dursleys' bedrooms, so the sound can't get in, instead of out."

Harry wondered for a moment why Lupin would need to practice silencing charms. Then he remembered how the Shrieking Shack got its name.

Moody ushered everyone out the door, before re-locking it.

"Don't worry, Harry," Lupin said as they all arranged themselves on the front lawn. "I left a letter explaining where you'd gone, so your aunt and uncle don't worry."

That had been quite possibly the last thing Harry was worried about, but he still thanked the professor.

Moody pulled something out of his pocket that turned out to be two shrunk brooms that he returned to normal size and handed to Ed and Mr. Mustang. Ed was muttering something under his breath until Mustang elbowed his shoulder. The brooms looked like very basic Cleansweeps to Harry, who surmised that the two Amestrians must not have been very experienced with flying.

Before they took off, Moody cast a disillusionment charm on him and the two Amestrians. He stayed a little longer on Ed, muttering what looked like a warming charm.

"So you don't get frostbit," he said, his electric blue eye swiveling pointedly to look at something on Ed's shoulder.

Ed looked like he was about to protest, but Mr. Mustang murmured something to him in Amestrian, and Ed subsided.

Moody cast the disillusionment charm on himself, and they were finally off.

/

The flight was grueling. It was dark, cold, much less fun than Roy thought it would be when he was initially introduced to the idea. Fortunately, it seemed that Moody and the other Order members were taking point on keeping one teenager's spirits up. Harry was more animated hundreds of feet in the freezing air flying away from his family than Roy had seen the short time he had known the boy.

Fullmetal, on the other hand, was a miserable hunched lump on his broomstick. Roy was glad that Moody had thought to cast those heating charms- Roy might not have realized the danger to his subordinate until it was too late. Being familiar with Alex Louis Armstrong, Roy often got secondhand stories from the north where the Major's sister was stationed as commanding General. Some involved automail causing someone's premature and frozen death. Fullmetal's reaction had indicated that he had had no idea of that potential danger, and likely wouldn't have noticed it before it was too late.

Roy disguised a shudder of discomfort with a shudder from being legitimately cold. He wished he had a few of those warming charms himself, but it was too late for that.

At least he didn't have to worry about prosthetic limbs- though that was a cold comfort at best.

Actual comfort finally came when Moody directed the group down into a dingy street. The location of the Order of the Phoenix. Roy had been shown the address during the mission briefing, but Moody still had to show the two boys before they could finally go inside.

It took longer than Roy expected; Fullmetal seemed to have to pry himself off the broom, though whether that was from cold or simple stiffness Roy wasn't sure. Then Moody had to burn the parchment with the address on it, making sure it was entirely ash before he eventually, finally moved from the spot in the street.

Lupin and Moody ushered the group into the dismal house. It wasn't the worst house Roy had ever been in, only because it had never belonged to Shou Tucker, but it was close. Once inside, a woman with bright red hair greeted Harry and clucked over Edward, who was managing to project his misery so completely, he was actually making Roy cold when he looked at him. Roy identified her as Molly Weasley, Person of Note and mother of a good percentage of the rest of the Persons of Note in the briefing Hawkeye had given him.

"Harry dear, it's good to have you, but I can't talk long, the Order meeting is about to start." She turned to Roy. "You must be Mr. Mustang. Molly Weasley, lovely to meet you." She held out a hand for Roy to shake.

He took the hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed the air over her knuckles. "Lovely to meet you too," he said. Somewhere in the background, Fullmetal made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Molly laughed. "Oh, go on. You look as young as one of my sons! Come in, Mr. Mustang. You and your boy must be frozen from that ride!" She bustled the entire group into the kitchen. Somehow he had gone from hallway to kitchen, complete with cup of tea, without really registering how he had gotten there. It would have been more worrying if he hadn't been to Grimmauld Place before, and therefore knew where the kitchen was. It was still impressive that Mrs. Weasley had managed to whisk Fullmetal and himself without protests from either of them.

Roy glanced to his left, where Fullmetal was seated with an identical cup of tea. Instead of the glower at having to sit next to his superior that Roy expected, Edward was staring down at the cup, bangs hiding his face. He looked unsettingly like he had back at the Dursleys.

Edward had been unusually subdued, and had been ever since the attack earlier. He'd eaten the chocolate that Potter had recommended before, but Roy had the feeling that whatever restorative properties it had had worn off. But now they were in a household full of trained, adult wizards- surely someone here would know what to do.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Weasley" he said. She turned from where she was using a somewhat ridiculous series of spells to make more tea.

"No need to be so formal, dear, call me Molly," she said, smiling at him again.

"Very well, Molly. My subordinate was caught in the attack earlier tonight- I believe Potter maybe called them Dementors. He said also that chocolate helps. Is there… more to be done?"

The smile fell from Molly's face, replaced by what Roy could only describe as 'motherly worry'. Fullmetal hadn't reacted to what Roy had said, which was making him nervous. He doubted the boy would have appreciated Roy arranging any kind of hospice for him if he had been paying attention.

There were many places Edward could get lost in, in his own mind, Roy thought. He doubted many of them were pleasant.

"Let me get you more chocolate," Molly said. She waved her wand, and a cupboard sprang open to reveal a box, out of which flew a foil wrapped bar. Unwrapping half of it, she set it in front of Edward. "You get him to eat that, and I'll see if Remus has arrived yet. He'd know better about this." So saying, she left for the front room.

Looking at the chocolate Molly had left, Roy saw that he wasn't the only one inspecting it. "What's this?" Edward asked, in Amestrian.

"Chocolate," Roy replied in the same language. "It seems to be a treatment for the effects of 'Dementor' attacks. Eat it."

"I already had chocolate. Back at the other house," Edward complained.

At Fullmetal's protest, the ache of tension across Roy's shoulders eased. "Eat it anyway," he ordered. "We had a long flight here. I wouldn't mind some chocolate, myself." He moved his hand, as if to make a halfhearted swipe at the treat.

Predictably, Edward shoved the slab in his mouth and took a huge bite. The boy often accused him of being manipulative, but it wasn't his fault when Edward's buttons were so easy to push. It was still satisfying to watch Ed devour the bar as voraciously as he ever did, just as Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen with a worn looking man that Roy recognized from the escort from Privet Drive, and identified from the briefings as Remus Lupin.

Ed looked up, cheeks still bulging with chocolate. Fortunately he didn't try to talk with his mouth full.

"Molly tells me that you had a run-in with a Dementor," Mr. Lupin said, walking over to inspect the chocolate wrapper. "I see she's already given you the proscribed treatment. My apologies, I wasn't aware that you were near Harry when the attack happened."

"I was standing next to him," Edward said, having swallowed while Lupin was talking. "I don't remember the attack. Just… getting dark."

Lupin and Molly looked concerned. Roy clarified, "Edward passed out, just when attack started. I saw him fall just as the Dementors came to him and Harry."

"I see," Lupin murmured. He pulled his wand out, a light shining on its tip. "Mr.- Edward, is it? Would you look towards me please?"

Edward shot Roy a dirty look, but complied. Lupin wasn't a doctor, but it seemed Fullmetal didn't appreciate being fussed over, in any capacity. Roy could sympathize, but he wasn't about to risk his subordinate's health to an unfamiliar threat.

Lupin's examination was brief. He merely waved his lit wand in front of Edward's face for a bit, then sighed and stood back.

"Dementors are foul creatures. Their very presence sucks all joy out of those around them, and pulls a person's worst memories to the front of their mind," he said. Roy remembered that almost-flashback that had flickered through his mind as he had incinerated one of the creatures. If that was what they did to people through proximity alone, then yes, foul was a good description of them. "I don't know what's happened in your life, Edward," Lupin continued, "But it must have been terrible for you to have reacted to the Dementors so strongly."

Again, Roy privately agreed with the man. Even if Edward was only 15, Roy knew the boy had seen things that even Roy, who had lived through the hell of war, couldn't imagine.

Edward himself only dropped his gaze to look at the table, and shrugged.

"In any case," Lupin sighed, "There isn't anything else to do for you, Edward. Now that you're away from the Dementors and you have chocolate, time will fix the rest. As for you, Mr..."

"Mustang."

"Mr. Mustang, you said you were at the attack as well?"

Roy nodded. "I was."

He didn't explain how he had participated in defending against the creatures; it would likely come up in the debriefing during an Order meeting, and felt no need to repeat himself.

"Then you should also have some chocolate."

"I see. I-"

Molly waved her wand, and another slab of chocolate flew out of the cupboard towards him. Roy grabbed it before it hit him in the face.

Molly looked pleased with her work. "Let me know if you boys need anything," she said. "Mr. Mustang, I'll let you know when the meeting starts."

She and Lupin left, stranding Roy alone in the kitchen with Edward, who looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

"Eat your chocolate," he said, Roy's own words thrown back at him with an additional layer of mockery.

Roy did without dignifying Edward with a response. He was surprised when it actually did help. Somehow the residual chill that he had thought was from the long flight was flushed from his fingers, and his shoulders seemed lighter. He didn't think that any amount of chocolate would ever help with the memories, though.

Roy knew he had earned those memories, those nightmares. The least he could do to was to never forget what he had done. In the end, those memories, those nightmares fueled his desire to achieve his goals.

To his right, Edward was slumped in his chair, staring at the empty chocolate wrapper. Roy knew the boy had his own nightmares to deal with, and doubted the chocolate would help him either. He was sinking slowly, the rigidness in his posture having been melted away by exhaustion. His breathing was slow and even. Without intervention, Roy was sure Edward would fall asleep at the table.

He sighed. Doing something meant standing up, but it would be better to get ahead of this now instead of letting Fullmetal fall asleep on the table in a house full of wizards, most of whom neither Roy nor Edward had met personally. If Molly Weasley was here, at least some of her children would be as well. The only children Roy knew were Elicia and the Elric brothers. All of them were insatiably curious and were willing to poke anything for answers. If the Weasley children were anything like them and they discovered Edward sleeping at the table, Roy was sure that they would poke at him, and that would end badly for everyone.

Doing something now was better than letting that scinareo play out. Roy heaved himself up from his chair, and walked quietly out of the kitchen. The hallways were dark, and neglected, with the wallpaper peeling from the ceiling, and cobwebs dangling from the corners. Despite this, floorboards that had been laid in a vaguely floral mosaic pattern and the carved wood that ran along the edges of the walls reminded Roy of the Armstrong townhouse. Once, this house must have been just as grand.

The faint sound of people talking got louder as Roy made his way through the dingy hallways. Other passages split off here and there, but Roy was able to follow the sound to a door with light flickering around its edges.

He opened the door slowly, not sure what he might be interrupting. It turned out to be a small crowd of people who dressed oddly to his eyes. He guessed that wizards in Britain had a fashion sense entirely distinct from their countrymen, unlike alchemists in Amestris, who tended to just stick to what everyone else tended to wear.

Molly Weasley's bright hair was distinctive, even in the low candlelight, and Roy was able to thread his way through the people in the room to her side, where she was talking to Alastor Moody.

As he got within earshot, he heard, "And here he is, Molly."

Both Moody and Molly turned to look at him. Moody must have impressive peripheral vision to have seen his approach, Roy realized. At least now he didn't have to bother with getting Molly's attention; Moody had done that for him.

"Hello, Roy. Something you needed?" Molly asked.

He put on his warmest smile. "Yes. Well, I do not think Edward will be able to attend tonight's meeting; he is still tired from the flight today. He wasn't scheduled to be at this meeting, anyway. Can you show us where his room is?"

The pleasant look of a hostess with welcome guests utterly vanished for a moment when he mentioned Edward attending the Order meeting, then Molly gathered her composure, and looked at Roy once more with a smile. "Just follow me, and I'll show you both where your room is," she said brusquely. Those gathered for the meeting moved out of her way wordlessly as Roy followed her to the hallways. "I forgot for a moment that you aren't actually Edward's Uncle," she murmured as they walked out of the warm candlelight and into the grim shadows of the hallway.

"No," Roy said. "No I am not."

/

Mrs. Weasley was able to lead Fullmetal up a staircase that looked like solid oak, without the boy giving more than a cursory grumble. Roy was impressed; managing a tired Fullmetal was a skill he would never gain. The bedroom Mrs. Weasley brought them to was equipped with two four-poster beds, where Edward unceremoniously fell on top of the one closest to the door.

"I'll likely be in after the meeting ends," Roy told him, in Amestrian.

Edward waved his left hand instead of verbally replying. He made no move to remove his gloves, or any of his other clothes. Roy expected that Edward would sleep in his clothes, gloves and all.

Roy would have teased him about rudeness to a superior, but riling Ed up now was pointless. He couldn't stay, and the boy was too tired to really reply. And if, by some chance, Edward did have some energy left, he might decide to retaliate. Roy _did_ have to sleep in this room tonight.

It was best to let sleeping dogs- and Fullmetal Alchemists- lie.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear yelling. It sounded young, and vaguely familiar. It took him a moment- Roy hadn't heard Potter speak much while they were in Little Whinging- but seeing as the only other teenage boy he was familiar with was swiftly falling asleep behind him, it was likely Potter's voice he was hearing. He glanced at Mrs. Weasley, but she didn't seem at all concerned. That, in addition to the fact that _Roy_ wasn't Potter's bodyguard, he decided that yelling teenagers were someone else's problem.

When they returned to the well-lit room from before, some semblance of order had been imposed on the gathering. Chairs had been pulled into a rough circle, and people were seated, some with cups of tea hovering in front of them. Roy scanned the faces- some, he recognized from his briefings. Others were as forign to him as their fashions.

He decided to take a seat away from Mrs. Weasley. He had perceived a bit of coldness from her since he had mentioned bringing Fullmetal into the Order meetings. He might have to mend that bridge later, but he figured giving her time to get the ire out of her system now wouldn't hurt.

Instead, he sat next to Lupin, who in turn was sitting next to a man who seemed vaguely familiar to Roy. Lupin turned, a small smile on his face. This close, and in better light, Roy could see the faint lines of scars on his face, making him look much older than he was. He was probably barely older than Roy himself, he realized.

"I take it Molly showed you and Edward your room?" he asked.

"Yes," Roy replied. "Edward is likely asleep now. He was tired after the flight, otherwise he would be here."

The man sitting next to Lupin leaned in, inviting himself to the conversation. "That accent… You're our alchemist, aren't you?" he asked.

Lupin actually winced, but didn't move away from the man. Not uncomfortable with the invasion of his personal space, then. Perhaps displeased? Lupin seemed to be a very soft-spoken person, despite the scars; he might consider barging into someone's conversation rude. Roy wondered how the man would have fared against Edward, had the boy not been feeling run down.

"Yes, one of them. And you are?"

"Sirius Black," the man said, extending a bony hand.

"Colonel Roy Mustang," he said, accepting the handshake. Sirius Black… no wonder Roy hadn't recognized him. The photo he had been given for the briefing had been of a man with matted hair, a skeletal look, and a desperate gaze. The man who sat before him now had found a shower, a hairbrush, and several good meals since that photo had been taken. The gaze, however… though Black could change his hair, or his clothes, he couldn't change his eyes.

Roy had known men with that look before. He hoped someone would be able to direct Black's energy into something. Some kind of project, something to give him purpose. He couldn't see it ending well otherwise.

"I hear you've arrived to keep Harry safe," Black said, handshake getting a little insistent now. "Can't help but wonder where you were a little earlier tonight."

Roy raised one eyebrow, returning Black's handshake without flinching. "We were unprepared, true, but I do think that turning a Dementor to ash isn't bad work."

Black laughed, breaking the handshake. "True!"

"Did you really kill a Dementor with fire?" Lupin asked, leaning back into the conversation.

"I did."

"How did that work?" Black asked. "I thought they could only be killed by fiendfyre."

Roy shrugged. He wasn't sure what fiendfyre was, so he couldn't answer the implied question. The best he could do was the truth. "I am quite good at fire alchemy." A watered down truth, but the truth nonetheless.

That statement was met with an amused smirk courtesy of Black, and a sardonic look courtesy of Lupin. "Well, naturally." That was Lupin.

"Controlling fire must not be very easy, I take it?" Black asked. "It must be-"

He was cut off by a loud crash, followed by very loud screaming. Roy had been practicing his English for a while now, but he couldn't make out what the woman- the voice was a woman's- was screaming about. It probably wasn't good- Black's face twisted before he dashed off, leaving behind quite a few Order members who looked similarly upset.

Being a gentleman, Roy was loath to leave a lady in distress, so he followed Black in the direction of the ruckus. What he found at the source was- disturbing.

Black was wrestling worn, dusty curtains over what looked like an animated painting of a well-to-do older woman, whose face was contorted with rage. Watching, Roy's mind itched for answers. After meeting Alphonse, after learning that soul transmutation was a possibility, he hadn't expected to ever encounter anything like it- and certainly not like this. He knew, in an academic sense, that in Briton- in wizard territory- the portrait was likely created by magic, rather than alchemy. It was still deeply disturbing to see an inanimate object move, seemingly under its own power, as a human might.

Black finally closed the curtains over the portrait, and the woman's voice fell silent. Roy shuddered, deeply grateful that Fullmetal had already retired for the night.

In the quiet that followed, Black turned and spoke- though not to Roy.

"Hello, Harry, I see you've met my mother," he said.

/

Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and alerts. I'm humbled by the response to this fic, and I hope you'll all stick with me as I rehash the fifth Harry Potter book for the umpteenth time. I'm a little slow with review replies, as you might have noticed, but I'll get to them eventually!

I also have a tumblr! buffpidgey . tumblr . com, if you'd like to come yell about fic with me.


	3. Chapter 3

As always, thank you to my beta, vis, who has managed to work magic despite a very busy summer work schedule.

 **Chapter Warnings** : Nightmares of canon-level events.

/

Harry tried to wait patiently as Sirius explained the magic behind the angry woman in the portrait to Mr. Mustang. Apparently alchemists didn't have moving portraits; the man looked quite disturbed. Not that Harry could blame him; Mrs. Black had been yelling some disturbing things.

"It's a simple potion to animate portraits," Sirius was saying. "Unfortunately, my late Mother decided to bless us with her presence for longer than anticipated. She used a Permanent Sticking Charm to make sure the hall won't ever be rid of this… piece of work."

"I… see," Mr. Mustang said, though he still didn't seem very comfortable with the whole situation. His dark eyes darting to the mouldering curtains that hid the portrait of Mrs. Black and back.

They all stood there in front of the now-silent portrait. When it became obvious that Sirius had nothing else to say, Mustang turned, and left without another word. Sirius sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, which was much neater than when Harry had last seen him, though that wasn't saying very much. It was still very good to see his godfather, though. With Sirius here, Harry somehow finally felt safe in a way he hadn't since last June.

Sirius helped fill in parts of the picture Harry had been excluded from all summer. While it was nice to finally be told something, it was worrying how desperation seemed to creep into Sirius's voice every now and then. When talking about going from roaming across the world on the run to being cooped up in the house, Sirius's voice grew harsh. All Harry could do was sympathize; he'd felt trapped by the Dursleys before, and this summer he'd felt trapped once again. At least he was here with everyone else now, and even if Sirius obviously hated this house at least he wasn't wandering the countryside, dodging Death Eater spies.

As he talked, Sirius led them back towards the kitchen, where people were talking and drinking tea. Lupin and Mr. Weasley were there, talking about how likely the goblins were to join Voldemort. Mr. Mustang was sitting next to them, sipping tea. He wasn't a part of the conversation, but Harry got the feeling that it wasn't because of a lack of understanding.

Ron and Hermione were also present, and across from them, Ginny and the twins were muttering quietly at each other, which was a faintly terrifying prospect. Ron had included enough details of his home life in his letters, over the years, that Harry was actually occationally glad he didn't live at the Burrow. Most of these occations involved the rare times Ginny teamed up with the twins.

"Right," said Mrs. Weasley when she saw Harry and Sirius. "Harry, Hermione, kids, it's off to bed with you!"

"Mum!" four Weasley voices chorused.

It broke down into individual refrains after that, with the twins complaining that they were of age, and Ron and Ginny chiming in with their own objections.

"Molly," Sirius said over the dull roar, "They need to know."

"No, they don't! They are children!"

Harry edged away from Sirius. Mrs. Weasley's temper could be ferocious- it had never been aimed at him, but Harry still felt uncomfortable being in the same room as an adult who was that angry. It was usually better, he figured, to be away from that sort of thing.

"You can't coddle them forever!"

"I'm not coddling them! They don't need to know every little detail!"

Sirius paused, one hand held up as he took a deep breath. "Not everything," he said. "I just intend to tell Harry what he needs to know. He was the one who saw Voldemort come back."

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Mrs. Weasley pressed on.

Harry, now half way over to Ron and Hermione's part of the table, hated being talked over like this, but he knew that trying to go against Mrs. Weasley at this point would be hopeless. If Sirius lost, he could get the details from the twins' Extendible Ears later. "He's only fifteen-"

In an amazing show of courage, Mr. Mustang cleared his throat, gaining the attention of both Mrs. Weasley and Sirius.

"Sal'noy- Elric- is fifteen," he said, mildly. Harry wasn't sure what Ed had to do with this argument, but bringing him up did some deeply terrifying things to Mrs. Weasley's face. Sirius's expression also went through some strange contortions.

Lupin stepped into this sudden gap in the conversation. "I think it better that Harry gets the facts- not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture- from us, rather than a garbled version from… others." Harry carefully kept his eyes on Sirius and Mrs. Weasley so he couldn't see Lupin looking pointedly at the twins.

In the end, Mrs. Weasley managed to send Ginny upstairs- a compromise even Harry knew was largely for show. Ginny would get the story from Harry, Hermione later, or wring it out of her brothers.

The room seemed to feel darker, the air slightly heavier once Ginny left. On his right, across the table, Mr. Mustang set his tea down, rested his elbows on the table, and folded his hands in front of his mouth. That pose obscured half his face, giving him a grim and mysterious look, which had to be deliberate. There was no way Mustang was comfortable like that. Nevertheless, he didn't move an inch during the explanation of what Voldemort had been doing- or rather, what Voldemort hadn't been doing.

Since the snake was keeping his head low, there hadn't been much for the Order (assembled after Harry had brought word back, it seemed) to really do, short of trying to get the word out. It was heartening to hear that _someone_ was doing _something_. Less encouraging was that, once again, Harry was the victim of rumors. Just like second year, except this time the Ministry was behind the defaming whispers made behind his back. And for the equally defaming newspaper articles.

Also, Voldemort was after a weapon, too. Which the Order was guarding.

That was about as far as the explanation got before Mrs. Weasley jumped up and yelled, "That's enough! I want you in bed, now. All of you." She made little shooing motions with her hands for emphasis.

As Harry and the others stood, Mr. Mustang finally stirred. "Wait," he said. "We haven't covered all of it."

Mrs. Weasley shot him a glare. "The goal wasn't to cover all of it," she snapped.

Harry paused, mid-step, eager to hear more, but equally weary of pushing the limits of Mrs. Weasley's patience.

"No, I know. I apologize. There is one more thing Harry must know." As Mr. Mustang spoke, Harry slowly sank back into his chair.

Lupin frowned. "I thought…" he paused. "Weren't we to be discrete?"

Mustang raised an eyebrow at Lupin. "There is a difference between discrete and…" He waved one hand in the air. "I cannot find word in English. But. I have never thought to give someone a bodyguard without telling."

"A bodyguard?" Harry asked. "Me?"

"Yes." Here Mr. Mustang smirked, an expression that seemed to fit naturally on his face. "Let me introduce myself properly. I am Colonel Roy Mustang, State Alchemist of Amestris."

There was a brief pause, possibly to let Harry absorb this information. Hermione gave a small gasp. She was going to have to explain what was going on later. For now, there was only one conclusion Harry could draw with any certainty.

"So you don't work at Grunnings, then."

The smirk slipped from Mr. Mustang's face and he blinked once. Slowly. Then the smug look was once again in its place. "No, I have never worked there. I needed a… a way in. And I have some very good people working for me."

Harry wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he decided to go back to the whole 'bodyguard' thing. "So are you planning to spend the entire year at Hogwarts?"

"HA! Sorry, no," Mustang barked, then coughed into his fist, pretending he hadn't just laughed in their faces. "No, I will be returning to Amestris before the end of August. My subordinate, Edward Elric, will be your bodyguard."

"Ed?" Harry didn't even try to keep the skepticism out of his voice. On the edge of his vision, Mrs. Weasley's face darkened. "He's not your nephew?"

Mustang nodded. "Elric is not related to me at all. Thankfully. He is a skilled alchemist. The youngest to become State Alchemist in Amestris. He will be keeping you safe at school."

"Does this mean that Edward is in the military?" Hermione asked, one of her hands hovering off the table, tilted towards the ceiling. Harry had the distinct impression that she was fighting the urge to raise her hand as if they were in class.

"Yes. He… is not being old enough yet to be sent to battle."

"Does Amestris use alchemy for warfare?" Hermione asked.

"Wouldn't that break the Statue of Secrecy?" Ron added. "I mean, wizards haven't been to war, proper war, in ages."

"Not necessarily," Sirius said, his mouth tight. "Amestris is located in an… interesting area, geographically, and the relationship between magic and muggles there has always been unique. It's one of several countries that are completely semi-magical- though that's partially because they rely more on alchemy than on magic." He sighed. "I'd wanted to visit, but, well, you know what they say about plans."

Harry could see the faded regret in Sirius's face. He could easily imagine a younger Sirius eager to see a country where muggles and wizards got along. Now, of course, that version of Sirius was gone, destroyed, like so many things, by Voldemort.

"So does that mean alchemists are trained to fight?" Ron asked.

"No." Mr. Mustang's voice was low, and tight. He looked like Sirius did, like Lupin did, like Mrs. Weasley did whenever they talked about the war with Voldemort. "Not all. But Amestris does use State Alchemists in war."

"Have you-" Ron started to say, but Harry was close enough to see Hermione kick him under the table. Ron's mouth quickly snapped closed, and he blanched.

You generally didn't go out of your way to ask if someone had ever been in a war, Harry knew. It was a distant understanding, one that had come from catching glimpses of war movies over Dudley's shoulders and the occasional news story that reminded him that England had an actual army still.

Ron might have had a different experience, judging from the way he had dropped his gaze so sharply. Harry had to wonder if there was any wizarding army. He hadn't heard of any, and it seemed that during the war with Voldemort it had mostly been the Order that had fought against him. The Order that Ron's parents had been a part of the first time. The Order they were still a part of.

Maybe the aurors counted, but from what Tonks had said, they had sounded more like magical police than an army. If Ron knew about magical fighting, but not magical armies that might be why he would have wanted to ask a question.

The slight hiccup in the conversation gave Mrs. Weasley space to interject. "Mr. Mustang, if you have anything more to say, say it now. It's getting late."

"Ah, yes. Edward will accompany you to Hogwarts. He will join you in most of your classes, keep you safe from a potential assault. I know you may not like this the most, but I think you may not like being dead more." With that, the man stood, and made to leave.

"Mr. Mustang!" Hermione called out. "Why would Amestrian military forces come to Britain?"

Mustang turned back, looking at Hermione. She held his gaze. "Even if the real reason is classified, there must be at least an official reason," she said, chin held high.

At that, Mustang smirked. "There is. Official reason is- well. You are smart girl. You know official reason is just for show. Real reason is same as official reason. We were asked." With that, he left.

He glanced at Hermione, hoping that she would understand what Mustang meant. What he saw didn't give him much hope. Hermione was staring at the air about three inches above the teapot, eyebrows drawn together, and lips moving, repeating 'we were asked'. It was a look that often predicted future trips to the library.

Ron was looking at Hermione too- their gazes met and he gave a 'what can you do' sort of shrug.

"Right!" Mrs. Weasley said, jerking Hermione out of her thoughts, herding them all towards the stairs. "Off to bed with you!"

/

When he was shuffled off to an unfamiliar bedroom in an old creepy house after one of the most unsettling nights he'd had in a while, Ed knew he wasn't going to be getting much sleep. That didn't stop him from pretending as hard as he possibly could when he heard the door open and booted steps cross the room. Of _course_ he was rooming with Mustang.

He knew it was going to happen. Technically he had been rooming with Mustang for almost a week already, but it was hard to count the uncomfortable nights spent in the Dursley household, both of them saying as little as possible out of an unspoken truce. That had been different. Well, Ed hoped it would turn out to be different. Grimmauld Place was dark and eerie, but the Dursley household was filled with people as corrupt as any backwater Amestrian official who'd ever attempted to cozy up to Ed because he was a State Alchemist. A creepy old house was still an iprovement over dodging the Dursleys by day and listening to Harry have screaming nightmares at night. That time had been surreal. Ed had taken comfort by looking through Harry's potions textbooks, researching this strange offshoot of alchemy, and in the knowledge that he would leave soon. Though as it turned out, he'd left sooner than expected.

Whatever had happened in that park had _not_ been welcome, but at least the Dementors or whatever they were had been a good enough reason to relocate to Grimmauld Place, which, though it was shabby and derelict, at least the faded grandeur of the house wasn't coated with an attitude of unreality, and the people here didn't seem to have any interest whatsoever in social climbing. Or, at least, using him or Mustang for their social climbing.

The Dementors… thinking about them was worse than thinking about the Dursleys. Yet, Ed found himself drawn to that memory, and all the older memories it stirred up- all of those past mistakes.

Focusing on the here and now helped. It helped hi not think. The scent of dust, dry rot, and the sound of boots on wood brought Ed back to the present.

He listened, trying to keep his breathing as even as possible as Mustang went about his nightly routine. A suitcase snapped open, and clothes rustled. The bed creaked, and Ed heard a soft intake of breath. He tried to listen for what Mustang was doing over his own breathing, but could hear nothing. Then Mustang was moving again, slowly.

What, did the guy actually think that little creak would have woken him up if he had really been asleep?

Mustang kept up that strangely hesitant bedtime preparation until he finally slid under the blankets with a rustle of sheets. It really seemed like the guy had tried his hardest to keep from waking Ed, which seemed ridiculous. But as ridiculous as the idea seemed, it was the only rational explanation he could think of for Mustang's behavior. He hadn't been this freakishly uptight about noise while at the Dursleys, so it was either the change of location or the events of today that had him acting weird.

Whatever it was, Ed didn't want to deal with it. It was Mustang's baggage, and if he wanted to tiptoe around, that was his problem. He did allow himself to sigh and turn so he was facing away from the other bed in the room, just in case it was light enough for Mustang to see him making faces in the dark. He stayed there, keeping his breathing steady, hoping he would fall asleep soon.

As he waited, eyes closed, the quality of the darkness seemed to change. Someone must have shut off a light in the hall or something. The black-tinged-by-lightness has turned into a more solid black. A deeper black.

Ed heard another set of footsteps. They were softer, made by someone lighter, someone who wasn't wearing boots. The door opened. Ed sat up, to see what the person wanted.

The silhouette stepped forward, resolving into Harry.

"Hey, Ed," he said. Did he have a cold from the flight? His voice was- off, somehow.

"Hey, Ed. Do you wanna play?"

What? Ed opened his mouth. Tried to ask what Harry meant.

"You wanna play?" Harry asked again. Blood dripped from his lips onto the floor.

When Ed looked back up, Harry was gone. Instead, there was a dark mound, hair trailing into a puddle of blood.

"Wanna play?"

Harry's voice was gone, too. Nina's voice echoed from the… thing in front of him. And from behind him.

"Wanna play."

The pool of blood on the floor started seeping outwards.

"Wanna play."

"Fullmetal."

Ed tried to step back, to try and avoid it, but as he put his foot down he knew he had already stepped in blood.

"Fullmetal."

He tried again, lifting his foot to get out of the pool. The blood was leaking from his shoes.

He needed-

A jolt to his shoulder and he shot up.

The room was still dark, but there was a diffused electric glow from outside streetlamps oozing in through the window. There were no bodies on the floor. It was covered in carpet, not blood.

"Fullmetal!" A voice right in his ear hissed.

Ed whipped his head around, and was face to face with Mustang. "What?" he snapped, on autopilot more than from any real emotion.

"You were having a nightmare. And you're shaking," Mustang noted, with clinical detachment.

"I'm fine."

True, his hand was shaking, automail fingers clicking as the joints twitched, and the shooting sensations Winry and Granny Pianko called phantom limb pains made him want to curl around his hurting leg until it and his arm felt normal again, but like hell he was going to do that in front of _Mustang._

Mustang gave Ed an unreadable look. "If you say so, Fullmetal." He stood from where he had been crouching by Ed's bed. For a moment, he hesitated, hand twitching forward. Then he sighed and crossed back to his side of the room.

A quiet "Goodnight, Fullmetal," was muttered across the tense silence.

"Goodnight, Colonel Bastard," Ed muttered back.

He heard an exasperated huff. "Disrespectful to your superiors," Mustang mumbled, and Ed let himself relax back into the reestablished status quo.

/

The next morning, Mustang said nothing about nightmares, so Ed didn't either. He followed his commanding officer down to the kitchen wordlessly. Since he had been pretty out of it the night before, he wasn't entirely sure what was where in this creepy old house, so following Mustang was the best plan. For now.

The kitchen was half-full of people, most of whom had red hair. Based on the briefing Al made him read before the mission, they must be a substantial fraction of the Weasley family. Ed remembered meeting Mrs. Weasley last night, though he knew he wasn't quite up to making a very good impression at the time. Last night she had been an impression of worry and authority. This morning, she was bustling around the kitchen, waving her wand like a conductor as magic made various plates and foods dance through the air and across the table.

Temporary though magic's effect might be, Ed could admit that there were times it did look useful. Especially when he was hungry and magic was bringing him a plate stacked high with toast and scrambled eggs.

He mumbled a sincere thanks to Mrs. Weasley before tucking in.

It's only when he heard Mustang mutter, "He always eats like that," that Ed realized most of the people seated at the table were staring at him. Mrs. Weasley was at the stove, cooking what he hoped were seconds of the scrambled eggs with conviction. The rest of the table, the younger Weasley children and the darker-haired hangers-on were a mixed bag of open amusement and carefully constructed avoidance.

"It's good food," he said in defense, earning a beaming smile from Mrs. Weasley, as well as another helping of scrambled eggs.

"I'm glad that a growing boy like you has a such a healthy appetite," she said. She floated another helping of eggs onto Harry's plate as well, Ed noticed.

One of the two identical Weasleys said, "So he eats like that every meal?"

Ed, with his mouth full, couldn't answer. Unfortunately, Mustang seemed to have anticipated this. He sighed. "Edward is not often in Vostok Gorod- we don't eat together a lot. But from what I hear, yes. Of course, he is- what is word- teenage."

"Screw you too," Ed muttered around a forkful of scrambled eggs. He would have used stronger language, but he hadn't managed to find the good swearwords in English quite yet. But even without truly salty language, several sets of eyebrows flew up.

The girl to his left- the one with dark hair, so she wasn't a Weasley- frowned. "I thought you had to be respectful towards your superiors in the army, don't you?"

Dark hair- inquisitive- same age as Potter- must be Hermione Granger. The briefing had included a few details about Harry's friends, and Al had added some speculation he'd heard from Mustang's team. Apparently Granger was seen as one of the brightest up and coming minds in the wizarding community, to the point of making some established traditionalist figures nervous. What they were nervous about Al hadn't been entirely sure about, but Ed supposed that any newcomer who threatened the status quo could be seen as a threat.

He was a great example of that himself.

"That is… a flaw in Edward, yes," Mustang said mildly.

"I respect people who are respectable," Ed explained. "Like Hawkeye. Maybe if you become leader like you say you will."

At the end of the table, one of the Weasley twins watched the exchange while the other asked, "Will you be roped into the cleaning crusade, then?"

"Cleaning… crusade?" Ed looked at Mustang. He hadn't heard about doing chores during this mission.

Mustang glanced back. There was a calculation in his face that Ed did not like. " _You are supposed to blend in with the children for this mission_ ," he said in Amestrian.

He glared. " _I'm supposed to be learning four years of this bullshit version of alchemy_ ," he snapped back. " _How am I supposed to do that if I'm stuck cleaning_?"

Instead of rising to the bait, Mustang merely raised an eyebrow. " _Are you… scared, Fullmetal? You never seemed to be nervous meeting new people before. Then again, I suppose I haven't seen you interact with people your own age..._ "

" _Asshole_ ," Ed hissed. " _I'm not scared, I just thought you would want me to be prepared for this mission._ "

" _Then prove it._ " Mustang turned back to the table. Most of the Weasleys and company suddenly pretended to be completely engrossed in their breakfasts. Except for the twins, who were still openly staring, with calculating faces. "Of course we would be happy to help with cleaning," Mustang said in English.

As he said that, Ed realized that Mustang already had a plan to get out of the actual hard work. That bastard was going to leave him stranded with a bunch of- of- _kids_ he didn't even know! He didn't even have Al here with him to talk to!

Just as that realization finished dawning on Ed, a second one crept up on him. He didn't have Al here with him, and he now had to talk to a bunch of his peers. Even when he had just been going to school in Resembool, Ed hadn't gotten along too well with the other kids his age. Al had been the nice one, the personable one. Ed had mostly tagged along, following either his lead or Winry's. Neither of them were here now.

He was facing these weird wizard kids alone, and yeah, maybe he was out of practice. But he wasn't nervous, so Mustang could go fuck off.

Which he absolutely did, just after Mrs. Weasley managed to get them all outfitted with homemade bio hazard suits and armed with spray canisters for something called "doxies". The work itself was tedious, but not really hard. Mrs. Weasley set a brusque pace, but she was nowhere near as bad as Sensei had been. It also gave him a chance to observe the people he was going to be stuck with for the rest of the year.

Now that he was among friends, Harry seemed to have calmed down immensely, something that Ed was glad of. Before, the guy had seemed almost ready to jump out of his own skin when he wasn't trying to blend into the walls. Here, there was still some of that tension, but Harry didn't seem to work at all to avoid notice like he had in Little Whinging.

It was probably to do with the people who had seemed to absorb Harry into their family. The Weasleys were the kind of big family Ed had seen often in Resembool, the kind that spoke loudly over the distances of the fields and knew exactly what they were doing in them. Those families had always been slightly intimidating with the sheer number of people. Ed remembered visiting some of the farm families with Mother and Al when he had been small. He mostly remembered flashes of sheer chaotically good nature, and how everything had seemed to have a golden sheen of joviality over it in those farmhouses.

The Weasleys seemed like that, but contained in a townhouse instead, and at the moment harnessed by the firm hand of Mrs. Weasley in order to clean the place up. The progress the whole group made was impressive, and Ed had to hand it to the woman; she knew what she was doing. It wasn't long before the first drawing room had been completely cleared of doxies and they had moved on to the next room.

Harry and Hermione kept up with the redheaded clan easily. It made sense; according to Ed's briefing, they had been friends with Ron since they were eleven. They were fifteen now- if four years of practice hadn't managed to acclimate them to the pace of Weasley life, nothing would.

Hermione herself was sharp. He didn't need the briefing files to tell him that, he had seen glimpses when she had questioned Mustang with little hesitation. Hopefully she was as curious about theory as she had been earlier. Ed was looking forward to comparing notes with her about magic and comparing it with alchemy. It was probably the only real intellectual stimulation he'd get for the next ten months.

The next target for their cleaning rampage was a musty room filled with shelves. Dust and cobwebs coated everything, and the curtains buzzed with the telltale sign of doxies. At least, that's what Mrs. Weasley said, and she was the doxy expert, as far as Ed was concerned.

A few volleys of whatever chemical was in their spray bottles- or perhaps it was some kind of magical solution, who knew- took care of the buzzing, however. As the others plucked the stunned creatures from the carpet, Ed wandered over to the shelves. Glad he was wearing gloves, he wiped a hand across the blockey shapes covered in grime. His white glove came away gray, revealing the spines of ancient books.

'Ye Codex of Minde Magyks'

'Transformation and Torture: a Speculation on The Uses of Transfiguration'

'Wizards and Witches of Old Bloode'

The titles were all like that, but one caught his attention: 'The Risks of The Soul and Rewards of The Body in Magic'. There was a smaller subtitle under it, but the dust obscured it. The strange sigil above the book's title reminded Ed of a glyph he had come across in the year after he had left his Sensei's instruction. He pulled the book off the shelf, and it came away in a cloud of dust that clung to his face and inside his mouth and nose.

Once it was given a cursory wipe, the cover held even more foreboding promise. The title was set inside a circle, surrounded by further glyphs that echoed alchemical symbols Ed was all too familiar with. Each page held a tightly-packed, cramped font that seemed to jitter before his eyes. It looked almost handwritten, but the ink was too uniform to be anything other than machined, and under the fingers of Ed's left hand he could feel the indents that printing presses left during a book's production.

It was a strange font, but for Ed, who was used to reading hurriedly-scribbled notes of alchemists in the passion of a discovery, the uncoded book was easy enough to read. He sat, not noticing how his jacket turned gray where it settled on the carpet.

/

Loving thanks to everyone who reviewed. Those of you who sent long reviews- never apologize for those! We writers LOVE them!

Special thanks to the Guest who pointed out the actual Russian translation for 'Fullmetal' (Sal'noy, which I will be using instead of Vosgart from here on out. I will also be going back and changing it over when I have the time)

I had tried to get the Real Russian translation before writing, but alas my Google skills were lacking, and I thus turned to Google Translate. Which probably explains everything.

Last language note: I'm still having Ed call Izumi 'Sensei' instead of "Master", "Teacher" or some other Russian word. I don't want to go digging through Google Translate again, Amestris is a made up world, and also the word Sensei implies a lot of important things that English words just don't manage. Finally, and most importantly, Because I Can.

Thank you for all the reviews, likes, and favs! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!


	4. Chapter 4

So sorry for vanishing for this long, but, completing a thesis, graduating grad school, and moving 4,000 miles tends to put a dent in one's updating schedule. But now that I have mastered all sociology forever, I can return to updating.

Updates should probably more coherently mesh with canon since I'm no longer 4,000 miles away from my copy of OoTP.

Last note, I might have mentioned it before, but thanks to some reviews over on from people who actually speak Russian, I'm changing the "Amestrian word" for Ed's title to Sal'noy, which is what they actually used in the Russian dub.

As always, thank you so much to my beta, viscountfrancisbacon.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing that stands out to me.

/

While magical pest control was a fascinating subject, even Hermione had her limits. Now that she had learned the theory and mastered the practical application, she was looking forward to lunch. Doxy removal was not an activity conducive to discussions of alchemy, and she had been forced to postpone questioning Edward and Colonel Mustang in order to avoid getting a face full of doxy spray, or getting bitten by the little terrors.

They had already covered about half of the windows in the library, so Hermione knew they were due for a break. While they ate, she could to ask the Amestrians all sorts of questions about the differences between magic and alchemy. Some of the basic principles had already been covered in class, but the Professor had admitted that Britain's understanding of alchemy was passing at best compared to those who committed their lives to it- like the State Alchemists who happened to be staying right in Grimmauld Place.

At first glance during her studies, alchemy didn't seem to be particularly practical compared to magic. An alchemist was restricted to whatever materials were available, whereas magic could be worked much more flexibly with whatever was on hand – or indeed conjured up, once sufficient skill was achieved. However, alchemy's advantages lay in its permanence and comparative simplicity.

It took a strong witch indeed to give charms or transfigerations real staying power, whereas an object that was transmuted using alchemy was stable, and retained whatever changes were made to it. A house made of magic would have to have the spells used in its construction reapplied regularly, while a house made with alchemy was as stable as a house built by muggles. And, while alchemists were restricted to only what they could use around them, that made their techniques that much more simple to understand and apply.

Magic in general, and potions and charms in particular, were rife with peculiar and often counter-intuitive reactions that one had to know before trying to cast the spell or brew the potion. A misstep could have strange or even devastating effects on the caster and everything around her, as Hermione was well aware from her years at Howarts. Of course, to make up for that, magic had a scope and flexibility that only a truly imaginative alchemist could even begin to approach. Those basic strengths and weaknesses were all Hermione knew about alchemy, but with an expert the level of an Amestrian State Alchemist around for the entire school year, she was sure that state of affairs would be temporary.

To do that, though, she would have to actually talk to him. In all the commotion, Hermione hadn't really gotten to introduce herself or the topic of the differences between alchemy and magic to Edward, something she was determined to fix during the break. As the group slumped away from the now-still curtains, Hermione noticed a complete lack of blond amongst the red of the Weasleys (and the dark hair of Harry). She counted, then counted again, when Edward came up once again as missing.

"Has anyone seen Edward?" she asked.

Ginny seemed unconcerned. "Maybe he was lucky enough to skive off," she said from where she had draped herself on a chair, throwing up a puff of dust as she did so.

"Dear sister, you should look at someone when they're talking to you!" one of the twins chided.

"Can't. Too tired to turn my head," Ginny said to the ceiling.

"Come now, it's the least you could do since you grabbed the only chair," the other twin added from the floor.

Mrs. Weasley was less amused. "If he's skiving off, I hope he's not poking around in the books. I'm sure some of them are cursed, and most of them are about Dark magic."

The short rest was canceled and turned into an impromptu search party, which didn't really last long. Hermione almost tripped over Edward, seated on the floor as he was. He was deep in an old book with old vellum pages. A shiny track in front of a small gap in the shelf showed just where this book had come from.

"Hey, Edward," she said as she knelt down to get a closer look at the cover, "What have you found?"

He didn't reply. Hermione bit her lip- Mrs. Weasley had said that she was sure only some of the books were cursed. Of course, it only took one curse to do the job. "Edward!" she said again, a little louder.

Still no reply. She knew that she could be very absorbed in a book at times – if the next attempt still didn't shift him, she would get Mrs. Weasley. This time, she shook him by the shoulder when she called his name.

"What?" He sounded grumpy, but at least there had been a reaction. "You need something?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Help with doxies would be nice."

Edward dropped his gaze, and the attitude. "Ah, right. I found this books, and Amestris does not have much for magic books."

"I'm not surprised," she said. "But do be careful what you touch here, Sirius's family, the Blacks, had a lot of cursed items and I wouldn't be surprised if some of the books were cursed too."

"I don't think this one has curse," Edward said. He was still on the floor, not bothering to get up. "Is still not pleasant," he sniffed.

"You should get up so we can find the others, then you should tell me what the book is about," Hermione said, offering a hand.

Edward glanced at her hand. He shuffled his book from one hand to the other before finally reaching out. Hermione switched to her other hand as well, suppressing a thoughtful frown. His right hand had been free, but he had made sure to accept her offer with his left hand. It was odd to see someone so conscious about what hand he took, she thought as she pulled him up.

A second thought crossed her mind once Edward was standing and she could see clean over his head.

Instead of remarking on his height (or lack thereof) Hermione said, "This way, I think," and walked down the aisle made by the bookshelves towards the windows.

"Hey, Hermione! Have you found- oh, there he is." Ron turned the corner. "Sorry, I didn't see you there, Edward."

Edward took an audible step to the right, and stared hard at Ron. "You did not see me? Why? You say I am short?!"

Hermione watched as Ron backed up slowly, hands held up in surrender as Edward advanced, accusing Ron of calling him short in increasingly elaborate ways. She wanted to help, but the scene was – fascinating. Fascinating was what it was, she told herself as she tried not to giggle at Ron trying to cringe upwards as Edward advanced on him. It was hard to imagine stopping it; it was like watching a force of nature.

"I think – maybe –" she choked out, just before Ron's back hit the recently de-doxy'd curtains, "I don't think-"

They were all interrupted by a loud POP as one of the twins apperated right next to the quarreling boys.

"Now, now," he said. "We can't have you bullying poor ikkle Ronniekins."

There was another pop. "That's right, Fred," presumably George said from the other side, "That's our job."

"You can have a go, if you like," presumably Fred said.

"But you really aught to go through the proper channels."

"We have paperwork, you know."

"And there's a fee."

"Oh, definitely a fee."

For someone confronted by the twins in full force, Edward managed admirably. He retreated, but he managed to stay on topic. "Not short," he said as he stomped back from Ron. "Fine. Now to where?"

It was only after they returned to the group that Hermione realized she hadn't seen Edward put that book back. But by then, Mrs. Weasley had found another section of curtains that were buzzing with doxies, and Hermione had no time to remark on it.

/

During lunch, Edward again ate like a bear preparing for winter; he put away a truly impressive amount of food at an equally impressive speed. Everyone else had only about half finished by the time he was done. He thanked Mrs. Weasley for the food, then muttered something about finding Mustang – though he had added some kind of Amestrian word before he had said the colonel's name, and Hermione had a feeling it wasn't a rank or proper title.

By the time everyone else finished lunch, Edward still hadn't come back. Either he was still looking for Colonel Mustang or he had found the man and was having a discussion, though Hermione wasn't sure what kind of talk Edward could be having with his superior. Last night she had gotten the distinct impression that Edward was not on friendly terms with the man.

The twins left after clearing their places. Hermione could hear the echoed CR-CRACK of apperation as they moved through Grimmauld Place, seemingly just to remind everyone they were of age, and allowed to do magic out of school.

It was somewhat of a surprise, then, as the remaining teens left the kitchen, to see one of the twins lounging across the stairs, seemingly waiting to conveniently waylay someone out of the view of Mrs. Weasley.

"What are you up to, George?" Ginny asked, quietly.

George grinned. "Obviously nothing morally upright," he said. "However, Gred and I were hoping that Hermione might lend her talents to the mayhem this evening."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And why would I want to do that?"

"Because the Extendable Ears can't translate Amestrian. Yet."

Ron leaned in, draping an arm on her shoulder and Harry's for balance. "Y'mean those State Alchemist blokes are having some kind of secret meeting?"

"Indeed. And you know how we feel about secret meetings." George stood up, gesturing for them to follow. He let them to one of the rooms that had already been cleaned, where an Extendable Ear was already laid out on the desk.

"Where's Fred?" Ginny asked. Every once and a while, the twin set of CRACKs shot through the house. "How's he doing that?"

"Twin secret. Can't tell you."

"He's apperating slightly to the left and then going to a different room and doing it again, isn't he?"

George didn't reply.

Ginny grinned. "Saw you two practicing that move."

"Go ahead and reveal all our secrets. Some little sister you are."

"Are we going to find out what Edward and Mustang are talking about, or are we just going to talk until Mrs. Weasley finds us?" Harry asked, arms folded.

"Of course, of course, Harry." George turned to Hermione. "If the lady will do the honors?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know I'm still underage."

"You know what I meant."

"Right. There is a spell for translation," she said, picking up the Ear. She pulled it to activate the lengthening spell the twins had worked into the thing before retracting it again. It was a neat piece of spellwork that she wasn't able to completely parse without being able to cast any kind of diagnostic spells. "I learned it in order to help exchange letters with Krum and some of his Bulgarian friends, but it needs to be reworked for Amestrian."

"And how long will that take?"

"Oh, not too long. I started looking into it just after they arrived."

"You know, as you do," Ron said. Hermione glared at him, but he did manage to score a chuckle out of Harry so she couldn't be too cross.

George handed her a sheet of parchment and gestured to the desk. "Anytime. The sooner we can figure out what they're saying, the better."

The actual conversion from Bulgarian to Amestrian wasn't that difficult. The spell Hermione had learned was one for broad translation that could be applied to multiple languages, and was designed to be flexible. The downside was, unfortunately, that it wasn't very precise and tended to be over literal in trying to translate idioms. But it would give them an idea of what Edward and Colonel Mustang were talking about.

She showed George the wand movements to go with the spell, and he vanished with a CRACK, taking the Extendable Ear. He and Fred were gone until dinner time, and Hermione hoped that meant the spell had been a success, since they hadn't sought her out for help.

At dinner, Hermione glanced to her left where Harry was eating at the pace he usually did in the fall, plate heaped high and one arm curled around it. It had killed her to keep quiet about what she really knew that summer when Hedwig kept delivering letters full of questions. Harry rarely looked into things, and it felt wrong to her to deny answers to someone asking questions- especially one of her own friends. But it had also felt wrong to disobey Professor Dumbledore when he had come to Grimmauld Place in person. His calm explanation outlining how the three of them, and especially Harry, had managed to get into such trouble in the last four years convinced her that it was better to follow Professor Dumbledore's plan. She didn't want Harry running off and getting into trouble without her and Ron for backup.

The hints at illicit Polyjuice brewing and other adventures she and the boys had had in the past years that had been slipped into the Professor's calm outline might have been another factor in Herione's decision to follow the word of one of the strongest wizards alive.

She hadn't told Harry anything over letters, as she had promised Professor Dumbledore. But Harry was here now, and she didn't need letters to communicate with Harry, and Professor Dumbledore had never said anything about what she should or should not say to her friend. Now that Harry was back with her and Ron where he belonged, Hermione knew they would get the answers they needed, no matter how many orders from Dumbledore needed bending or how many translation spells needed to be cast.

/

The rest of the evening passed with no indication from Fred or George that the ears were ready. Hermione had hoped that they would be able to learn something tonight. It would be a welcome change of pace for Hermione, whose learning had stalled a few days after she had arrived. Her brain itched for new information, but the only source she had available to her was the Black family library.

All the adults agreed that the books in the Black family library were likely cursed or about dark magic. The first three days she had been there, Mrs. Weasley had practically set a watch on her to keep her from reading them. The first three days Hermione had been at Grimmauld Place she had still had some of her current summer reads to work on. Now she was all out, but she still didn't want to risk a curse, or the return of some kind ofy alarm spell on the bookshelves.

Without books to read, Hermione's instinct was to turn to research. There certainly were ample things to look into; there were so many people coming and going, doing things for the Order, and Hermione longed to know just where they were going and what their various missions were. Her natural curiosity had served her and her friends very well over the last four years. Now, she realized she had fallen into the habit of trying to ferret out any secrets, even if they were only passingly relevant.

It was a hard habit to break, especially without new books to read, but trips to the library were deemed too high a security risk for the low reward of new books. Hermione had to wonder who had made the final vote on that. Not very much though, because then she would wonder if she could arrange for the twins to test some of their trick sweets on them, and that was a train of thought that went nowhere productive.

However, Hermione had had enough of 'productive' for one day. She lay on the bed in the room she was sharing with Ginny, staring at the ceiling. There was only so much doxy removal a girl could do before she was done for the day. From the way Ginny was sprawled out on her own bed, she agreed.

"We only have eight more rooms," Hermione said.

Ginny groaned. "We still have eight rooms left."

"Well, when we started it was-"

"No, no, don't tell me. I don't want to know how many curtains I've sprayed, thank you very much."

"Fine."

The girls lapsed into silence. It was nice, Hermione had to admit. During the day Mrs. Weasley kept them busy and-

CRACK

"I- _oof._ "

"Nice arm," Fred- or George said, curled around the pillow Ginny had thrown hard enough fold him in half.

"I hope you're here about the ears," Hermione said, not bothering to sit up.

"You know we are," George said, straightening. He threw the pillow back to Ginny.

She caught it, easily. "You weren't even trying."

"We have other things on our to-do list," George said.

"Quidditch practice is for the daytime, anyway."

"Unless you don't want to see what our Amestrian guests are talking about..."

Hermione shot up. "Let's go!"

George led the girls down the hall where Harry and Ron were already hovering silently behind Fred. Ron was standing right behind Harry, looking over his shoulder. Both boys were breathing shallowly, and Harry had one hand absently held at about shoulder height. It was the same way they snuck around the castle under the invisibility cloak, Hermione realized once she noticed her own shallow breaths. It seemed that a few years of unseen sneaking gave a person certain habits.

As Hermione neared the boys, she could hear the muffled noises of an intense discussion coming from a few doors down the hallway. Fred and George pulled out the fleshy strings and handed them out. The group hid in the unused room at the end of the hall while the ears wiggled their way towards the door.

"-think I should be getting on with the real reason you brought me?" Edward was saying once Hermione's Extendable Ear got in range.

"That research is not the 'real' reason, Fullmetal. You have two goals, and I doubt Potter would appreciate knowing you don't think keeping him safe is important," Mustang replied.

Edward spluttered. The translation spell couldn't manage the syllables and half-words he spat out until he settled on an actual sentence.

"I DO think keeping the kid alive is important!" He sounded sincere, at least. "But that doesn't start until we get to the school. I'm not on duty right now. I should be able to do the research you promised me I would be able to do!"

"Plans change. You know this. You also know that the initial mission parameters stipulated that you keep your research from the general knowledge of the Order."

"These games people are playing are a waste of time. The books here are unsettling, but they have some interesting paths." A phrase the spell translated literally, Hermione noted as Edward continued, "I won't be able to read them when I'm in that school."

Boots clicked across the floor, and pages rustled. "These wizards certainly have… interesting names for their books. Does 'The Utility of the Human Soul' tell you anything you didn't know already?"

"No," Edward growled. There was another rustle, and the familiar thump of a book landing on a soft bed. "But I am learning how they are phrasing things. The terms are different for ideas that are generally similar in alchemy. I'm also learning that wizards are fucked up."

"Oh?"

"Human transmutation is illegal for a reason," Edward said, which explained nothing to Hermione, but Mustang seemed to understand what that meant; he gave a noncommittal hum in response.

"Be that as it may," Mustang continued, "Being covert about your ultimate goals is required for this mission. On that same ticket, Granger is reportedly very good at uncovering peoples' secrets, given enough clues. I suspect that you would want to avoid giving her any hints about..."

Edward growled. "Yeah, I get your point. I agreed that Al should stay home, remember?"

"Oh yes, especially since you roped me into running letters back home." Mustang sighed, and Hermione recognized the sound of someone resigned to being dragged into something despite their better judgement. It was odd hearing it from someone else, though.

"You could wait and use the owl post once you get to the school. The letters would leave at nearly the same time," Mustang said after a brief pause where Hermione would swear she heard Edward roll his eyes. "Though I suppose owls wouldn't be able to carry the novel you've managed to write already. The backlog might kill the poor thing."

"Quit acting like passing along letters is hard. I know from Lt. Hawkeye that you manage to shift your paperwork along like a champ."

"Oh, it's not hard for me. Though I do wonder how you managed to write so much. I assumed from the state of your reports that reaching all the way to the table might be difficult for you. It seems I was wrong."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING-"

The conversation abruptly devolved into strange analogies that were almost impossible to follow. Ginny managed to endure the longest, and there was a strangely contemplative look on her face when she finally showed up in the bedroom Harry and Ron were sharing, which had been designated the de facto meeting place.

"Anything else interesting?" Ron asked.

Ginny shook her head, and handed her extendable ear back to Fred. "He was still going on about synonyms for small things, it seemed. There were a lot of idioms, I think, and the translation spell doesn't really do well with those."

"At least we know not to call Elric short," Harry said.

"Unless we need a distraction," George added.

/

Jokes about Edward's height aside, tonight had been a success. A qualified success, perhaps, but Hermione would certainly classify it as a success.

"That single conversation was quite enlightening," she pointed out, once Harry had started repeating jokes.

"It raised a lot of questions, though," Ron pointed out, leaning against the headboard of his bed. "Like 'what's human transmutation'? I've never heard of it."

"Considering he brought it up right after discussing a book he found in a Black family library, I would guess it's the alchemical term for some sort of dark magic," Hermione reasoned.

Harry frowned. "What is a guy who's supposed to be a bodyguard researching dark magic for?"

"He did say it was illegal for a reason," Ginny said. Harry and Ron's room wasn't exactly filled with convenient places to sit, so she was perched on the board at the foot of Ron's bed that had been carved in a vine motif that leaned heavily on thorns and used leaves sparingly. "So it seems like he's at least not interested in doing whatever dark magic it might be."

"That still doesn't answer the question about why my bodyguard is doing research we're not supposed to know about!"

Ron tilted from where he was sitting on Harry's bed, nudging Harry with his shoulder. "It doesn't have to be sinister, mate. Dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He's not an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, but he still sometimes has research he can't tell anyone about."

"Not even Mum," one of the twins added. Fred and George had claimed most of the sitting space on Ron's bed.

"And if our Dad can't even tell Mum about it..." the other twin said.

"Then I don't think a foreign government would be too happy sharing."

"Especially not with a semi-secret organization."

"Or a bunch of kids who aren't even of age."

"Unlike us, right Fred?"

"Oh, yes, George."

Harry snorted. He didn't say anything more, but some of the tension had left his shoulders.

"I'm sure that the Amestrian military would be more than happy to give all its secrets up to you two," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"What if we asked nicely?" George asked

"Still probably a no."

"Aww, you're no fun," Fred declared, falling dramatically sideways, arm cast over his eyes.

"Militaries generally aren't," Hermione said, nudging Fred's head with her foot. "And that reminds me- it's very odd that Edward can get away with speaking like that to his superior. Mustang is a Colonel, and that's quite high ranking."

Harry and Ron finally looked up from the short shoving match that Ron had unarguably started. (An important detail Hermione had learned, over the years she had been called to referee such things.) "I'm more interested in what they actually know about _you_ , Hermione," Ron said.

"Yeah..." Harry said, brow once again furrowed. "Mustang mentioned you by name."

Hermione waved her hand, as if she could shoo away the boys' implications. "You two both know that it's not me who starts these kinds of things," she said. "I just want to study. It's you two who want to investigate!"

The boys shared a look.

"It's true!"

"Hermione, neither of us took much initiative trying to figure out what Rita Skeeter was doing," Harry said in an overly calm voice.

The room broke out in sniggers and choked back laughs from every Weasley present as Hermione sputtered.

Ginny calmed down first. "No matter who started it, Hermione is the one they're watching," she said. "And, the one they're worried about is Elric. And someone named Al, who isn't here."

Ron nodded. "Elric said he left Al behind. Whoever he is."

"Whoever Al is, Ed writes him a lot," Harry said. "Mustang was complaining about all the letters."

"How much of a joke do you think that is?" Fred asked.

"When we were at the Durleys, Ed was either reading or writing. He wrote pretty quickly. If he wasn't just taking notes…" Harry shrugged. "That could be a lot of letters."

"Letters aren't exactly hard to carry," George pointed out. "But, Elric said Mustang is going back, didn't he?"

Fred sat up. "He did," he said slowly. "He did indeed."

Ginny looked unimpressed at the smirks that were creeping over the twins' faces. "Just tell us your idea. Anything you just came up with isn't going to be all that impressive."

"Shows what you know," George said. Fred stuck his tongue out at his sister. "We were planning to try and bribe Elric for information."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "With what?"

"Er, Harry's owl?" It was more of a question than a statement, with the way Fred said it.

George sighed. "Ginny _might_ have been- well- not RIGHT, but certainly not WRONG."

"If Elric doesn't manage to pick up an owl before we go off to school, he would still need one to send off his letters-"

"So if we offered Hedwig, who is reliable and not the size of a snitch, unlike some owls-"

"Hey! Pig is reliable too!"

"-Maybe he would be grateful and tell us a few things," Fred finished. Then he coughed. "It wasn't one of our best ideas."

A brief silence descended. Ginny smirked, Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry was trying to pretend he wasn't part of the conversation by looking at random objects in vastly different corners of the room ever few seconds.

Hermione sighed.

/

I'm not really sure what to put down here other than pointing out that, as always, you can find me at BuffPidgey on tumblr if you would like to either yell about fandoms, or sociology with me!

Thank you for being so patient with me. Updates should continue as previously scheduled, and I'll see you all on Oct 20th!


	5. Chapter 5

First note of business: Yes, it's been a long time since I updated. But, between me having NO job (and looking for one) and my beta's job being a total busy hellhole, things get lost in the chaos. I do try to update at least once a month- on the 10th or 20th, so this story isn't dead yet.

Secondly! In my research for languages for this fic, I learned that Ed's actual Japanese title (Hagane) is the word for steel- specifically steel that is of sword quality. Sword steel, if you will. That is the actual word that is used for translations in OTHER languages (such as Russian). It's badass, isn't it? The point is I USE THIS PHRASE in this chapter, so if you're confused about Mustang's translation, that's what's up.

Finally, as always, much thanks to viscountfrancisbacon, who took time out of playing vidja gams to edit this.

Chapter Warnings: Allusions to Nina, and throwing up.

/ /

In the end, they just didn't have enough information. Not yet. It was decided that they would need to listen to a few more translated conversations between Mr.- Colonel Mustang and Ed before they could really decide anything.

As everyone left – the girls walking out of the room and the Weasley twins apperating – Harry let himself sigh and fall backwards onto Ron's bed. He dreaded the idea of having to stand up in order to walk across the room over to his own.

"I know what you mean," Ron said. He was still upright, but he was slouching and staring at the wall with a hundred mile stare that Harry recognized. Ron was going to fall asleep. Literally, if he wasn't already laying down. Harry had seen it happen a few times over the years, where if he was tired enough, Ron would reach a point where he simply keeled over and start snoring. "But really, mate, what do you think about Elric? You did spend some time with him while you were stuck with those muggles."

Harry shrugged. Then he realized that he was laying down and Ron wasn't looking at him anyway.

"It's weird that he's a part of a military, but he seemed alright. He wasn't interested in hanging out with Dudley. Just seemed interested in studying while we were there. Why?"

It was Ron's turn to shrug, which was quite a production with his gangly limbs and bony shoulders. "I dunno," he said. He rubbed at his eyes, then dragged his hands down his face. "There's something about him that just- seems odd."

"Odd how?"

"I dunno." Ron ran his hands across his face again. "Something about him reminds me of when we first met S– of when we first got to Grimmauld Place, somehow. I keep thinking about it whenever I get near him."

That… _was_ odd.

Ron read Harry's agreement in his silence. "Told you," he said. "I can't exactly say having someone extra around to protect you is a bad idea-"

Harry jolted upright. "Hey! Who faced Vol-"

Ron cut him off. "That's exactly what I mean!" he said, turning to face Harry for the first time since everyone else had left. "Every year we get pulled into ridiculous- every year YOU get pulled into something dangerous. Last year, you vanished for most of an hour and when you came back you were covered in blood and dragging Cedric and screaming about You-Know-Who! And that wasn't the first time, Harry! It seems like every year you get dragged into something and Hermione and I have to wait and see if you come back alive!" He poked his finger into Harry's chest. The faint light coming through the window was behind him, casting his face was entirely in shadow, but Harry could still imagine it, freckles bunched together as frustration twisted Ron's expression.

"I just-" he sighed. Ron slumped again, his head turning away, catching the light. Instead of the irritation Harry had expected, Ron just looked resigned. "I don't know about this Elric bloke, but with You-Know-Who back and after you, I do like the idea of someone keeping an eye out."

There wasn't much Harry could say to that.

/

There wasn't much time to use the Extendible Ears over the next few days, and not much reason to. Mrs. Weasley kept them busy cleaning by day, and by night there weren't any Order meetings to eavesdrop on, while the alchemists seemed too busy to have conversations to overhear. Mr. Mustang generally kept to himself, having taken over an already-cleared study. Occasionally he could be seen wandering between the study he seemed to have temporarily claimed and the kitchen, sipping tea and reading a sheaf of papers that had an official-looking seal on them. Ed quipped once or twice about putting off paperwork and how Mr. Mustang would regret it when someone named Hawkeye found out. Mustang would always reply that at least his clothes weren't covered in dust.

Despite being prone to wander off if books were in the room, Ed had been effectively conscripted into Mrs. Weasley's cleaning force. Though Harry knew that Ed was more interested in being a Hermione-esque bookworm, the alchemist never let on how disappointed he was to be interrupted in his "research". Despite the disappointment, Ed's pockets were always strangely full of rectangular blockey things at the end of the day if you knew where to look.

Hermione pondered loudly and at length about how Ed had managed to get pockets that fit multiple books and where she could get clothes like that, but only when they were alone. Nobody wanted Mrs. Weasley to overhear them talking about things they shouldn't know about and start another Extendible Ear raid.

Dinner times had settled into a strangely chilled neutral territory. Mrs. Weasley and Sirius kept the topics light, and Mr. Mustang followed their example. Ed ate like every meal was going to be his last, and generally acted like he was ignoring all conversation. However, he would sometimes pause chewing to add some observation of his to the current topic, or to insult Mustang's work ethic.

Tonight was no different. Sirius was questioning Mustang about his experiences with automobiles while Ed occasionally looked up from his dessert to insult Mustang's driving ability.

Mrs. Weasley set a spell to start washing the dirty dishes before walking over to Harry. She informed him that in the morning he would be going to the Ministry with Mr. Weasley. Harry hadn't realized that the date of his hearing had arrived. It would be a relief to finally put it behind him, and if he did get expelled from Hogwarts, he had Sirius's word that he could live in Grimmauld Place.

"I want to see him off," Sirius said, cutting off his conversation with Mustang.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "You can't, it's too dangerous," she said.

"Obviously I wouldn't go like _this_ ," Sirius said. He stood up from his chair and demonstrated his proposed disguise. It had been a while since Harry had seen his godfather's animagus form – the big black dog looked much less malnourished than last year.

Mustang shot up, abruptly ending any further discussion as his chair crashed to the floor. His dark eyes were so wide that Harry could see the entire iris ringed in white. "Wha-"

There was a solid _thump_ to Harry's left. That was all the warning he had before Ed started coughing, gasping for air. One hand shakily grabbed at his collar as he tried to breathe.

"Sal'noy!" Mustang's chair joined Ed's on the floor as he surged to the kid's side. He thumped Ed on the back, muttering something in Amestrian while Ed hacked and made other horrible choking noises. The room was still aside from them; everyone had surged to their feet at some point during those compressed seconds, but now they could only watch.

Ed started shaking violently. Mustang pulled Ed sideways and tilted him forward, so he was no longer facing the table.

Just in time, it seemed, as Ed lost the dinner he had just eaten.

Mrs. Weasley calmly strode forward and vanished the mess on the floor with one hand, and offered Ed a cloth to wipe his mouth on with another. He took it with a left hand that still shook.

"Sorry," he croaked.

She tutted, and patted him gently. "There's nothing to be sorry about," she said. "Accidents happen. Especially when _some_ _people_ -" she threw a stern glare at Sirius, still in dog form- "are showing off."

When Ed caught sight of Sirius, inching around the table to see if Ed was ok, ears back and tail low, he flinched violently.

"What you mean 'Show off'?" Mustang said. He had one hand on Ed's shoulder. Harry could see from the way the fabric wrinkled it was a firm grip.

Sirius shifted back to human, brow furrowed. "I take it you don't have animagi in Amestris?"

"Nyet. _N_ _o_ ," Ed said, voice still harsh from his coughing fit.

"Is not… cannot move flesh, move bone and blood like this in alchemy," Mustang confirmed. "We were… surprised to see you do this."

"Ah, I'm sorry to have worried you," Sirius apologized with a slight bow. "I didn't realize you wouldn't know."

Mustang waved off the concern. "Is no trouble. I am fine. Sal'noy- Edward is fine." He smiled, but his face was white, and the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Sorry. About-" Ed tried to apologize again.

"Think nothing of it!" Mrs. Weasley assured him. "There are more important things to discuss. Like where Sirius will _not_ be going tomorrow."

/

Harry had to get a good night's sleep for his trial in the morning, but Hermione didn't. Which was why she was creeping through the dark halls of Grimmauld Place after dinner with an Extendible Ear after the boys had gone to bed. She knew that Harry and Ron would be put out when they found out she was trying to spy without them, but Ron had elected to go to bed soon after Harry had retired, in one of those shows of solidarity that had been his habit since first year.

Maybe if Hermione was sharing a room with them things would be different, but she wasn't, and she was currently at loose ends with a rather interesting puzzle before her.

Many muggleborns didn't know animagi existed when they first came to Hogwarts, but she doubted that Professor McGonagall's usual third-year demonstration would warrant the kind of reaction Sirius had gotten from Colonel Mustang and Edward that evening. Something about the animagus transformation had spooked both of them, and if she was going to learn what it had been, she would have to act tonight. If she didn't, she doubted that Edward and Mustang would discuss what had left them both so shaken at a later date.

Once she was situated and as hidden as one could be without an Invisibility Cloak, Hermione let the Ear wiggle its way towards the guest bedroom where low voices spoke in Amestrian.

"-about that, were briefing." A sentence fragment, translated literally. It would be hard for most translation spells to work properly without the complete sentence to work with.

"No. It wasn't mentioned in mine, either," Mustang said.

"If we had known about this before-" Edward stopped mid-sentence. He sounded furious. "If we had found her before-"

"Fullmetal." Mustang's voice cut through whatever Ed was saying. "There is nothing we can do now. You of all people know this."

"I _know_ ," Edward snapped. "I found her – I found it. The body."

Hermione froze, hand over her mouth. (She had trained herself out of gasping towards the end of second year – it seemed practical, what with the Cloak – but some old habits died hard.) Death was always tragic, but Hermione's mind worked, drowning out her emotions. They had been briefed on animagus abilities before their arrival, assuming that was what "it" was, but what could possibly connect an animagus transformation with someone Edward had found dead? And, why was the knowledge of animagi so upsetting?

She leaned forward, hoping to hear more, but after Edward's outburst there was only silence.

Then, "I just- if we had known, maybe, maybe..." Edward trailed off.

Mustang sighed. "I know, Edward."

/

By the time Ed got down to the kitchen for breakfast, Harry had already left for his magic trial. The whole thing seemed like a pointless waste of time, but Mustang had frowned about the entire situation, and while Mustang liked to frown at Ed, he rarely let the actual pressures of politics get to him. Maybe it was harder to seem so unconcerned when all his lackeys were almost 4,000 miles away.

Maybe Harry Potter getting expelled or something was serious.

Although, despite the possibility of going home early, Ed hoped Harry wasn't about to be expelled. Being punished for defending yourself was bullshit of the highest order.

It was clear that Ed wasn't the only one who thought that way. In the kitchen, Hermione and the redhead girl- Ginny, her name was Ginny- were making breakfast. Or trying to. So far, they seemed to have gotten out the bread and butter, but had stopped before making any actual effort in food preparation.

Hermione was staring out the small window above the sink, her lips moving as she muttered too quietly and too quickly for Ed to understand. Ginny was glaring at the teapot so fiercely Ed almost felt sorry for it.

It was a tense scene, but Ed had been in worse. At least neither of these girls were going to try and run him out of town. He sidled towards the cupboards, and opened one, intent on finding his own breakfast, content to leave the girls to their contemplations. The door groaned as it opened, a sound lower than the small hinges had any right to make.

Ed wanted to groan too when he saw the pots inside. His initial plan of letting Hermione and Ginny continue glaring at inanimate objects had failed. He had no idea where anything was.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me."

Hermione jerked and spun to face him. "What? Oh! Edward, sorry, yes?"

"Where is..." he trailed off, trying to remember the best word to use in English. 'Breakfast' felt too direct, and 'food' was too vague. "Anything?"

Ginny stood, and reached for one of the cupboards. "We might as well join you," she said, gathering breakfast items. "Hermione and I weren't particularly hungry, but we do need to eat."

"True, true, but the more the merrier!" Hermione's smile was determined. Like if she smiled enough she could will the universe into order. Ed had seen that look enough on Winry's face to know that if he didn't tread carefully he would be roped into some kind of project in the near future.

A glance at Ginny showed pursed lips and raised eyebrows. If Ed had to guess, she felt the same about being forcibly volunteered.

"-and really, there's no need for us to mope around the house until Harry comes back," Hermione was saying when Ed turned his attention back to her. "It's not like we could force the trial to go our way if we all just sat around."

"Not legally," Ginny said.

Hermione glanced at her, but pointedly did not otherwise acknowledge the interruption. "So! Breakfast, and then..." she trailed off.

"Cleaning?" Ed suggested. It seemed a logical guess.

"I hope not. Maybe we can see about finding new books," Hermione said, turning her full attention to him for the first time that morning. It was more uncomfortable than he had anticipated. There was a strange intensity to her gaze that again reminded Ed of Winry – though this look reminded him of Winry reading about a new kind of wrench or something. "I have been meaning to ask you how you've been fitting all those books into your coat pockets."

Thus breakfast descended into a discussion of alchemy-assisted tailoring, and a comparison to extension charms. By the time the rest of the household showed up, Ed had added over a dozen new words to his mental list of 'words to look up', and a sinking suspicion that he had begun a terrifying new era in witches' fashion – at least for these two.

Black joined the conversation, mentioning various things _he_ had put in his pockets during his school years. Ginny seemed more interested in that than Hermione, and so she and Black split off into their own little discussion, which Ed was more than happy about. He would be able to deal with the dog man, he was sure, but the less he had to speak directly to him the better, for now.

It wasn't Black's fault that the Dementors had dragged up his memories of what had happened to Nina. Since he had arrived, the nightmares had even started to taper off, but if Ed was being honest with himself, seeing the man transform into a dog last night had brought it all back.

Mustang had been surprisingly mature about being woken up in the middle of the night, not even mentioning how Ed had more than once needed reassurance after struggling out of a nightmare, in that time where reality and dream were still fighting for dominance. On more than one occation, Ed had woken to a tired murmur of "It's not real, Fullmetal," without any of the snide remarks he had come to expect from his commanding officer. Even in the day time, with Mustang absolutely taking naps in his office, there were still no sly comments on Ed's sleeping habits.

Ed hoped there were no more sudden reminders of the terrible shit in his past, because waiting for Mustang to be an ass about something was becoming nerve-wracking all on its own. He was starting to wish the man would get it over with already. Once Mustang accused him of being a coward, or being a child unable to handle the world, Ed would be able to snap back and prove he was more than up to the task and everything could return to normal.

The longer this strange behavior of Mustang's continued, the more Ed felt he was in Mustang's debt, and he owed Mustang quite enough already.

A commotion at the door put a stop to conversation – pocket related or otherwise – and Ed made his way to the hall in time to see Mr. Weasley and Harry shuffle inside, careful not to upset the creepy painting of Mrs. Black.

Mrs. Weasley was speaking in low tones to her husband while Harry shuffled further in. A gasp, and an excited phrase in English sent the whole Weasley clan into celebration mode. Ginny and the twins were chanting something, complete with a strange war dance, while Harry fought his way further into the house, past the abrupt outburst of congratulations.

Ed pushed his way back from the excited English babble to where Mustang was standing, watching the outcome with a cup of coffee in one hand.

"Looks like Potter isn't going to be expelled," he said in Amestrian.

"I guess so."

"Black seems a little put out." Mustang gave a circumspect nod over the rim of his mug. "Which makes sense. If Potter got expelled, he would have company."

"And I wouldn't have to stay here," Ed added.

Mustang's gaze flicked to Ed for a long moment. "It's a moot point now," he said. "Potter is off to Hogwarts, and so are you."

Ed waved him off. "Yeah, I get it," he said. "I'm going to see if there's any of those scones left." He turned, leaving the celebration behind.

/

It was interesting, Roy thought, how war seemed to have touched these wizards. After the war in Ishval, he had seen shell shocked soldiers and alchemists alike, as well as war weariness in civilians, such as Mrs. Pianko who had never seen war themselves, but had still lost too much. According to the intelligence he had received prior to this mission, the magical world in Britain was recovering from its own civil war. It had been hard to see, cooped up in Grimmauld Place as he had been, but seeing the men before him now, Roy could believe it.

Severus Snape was not a soldier. None of the magic users were, Roy knew. The closest one was Alastor Moody, and even he resembled some of the more erratic battle-class State Alchemists more than a true soldier. But even without the baring of a soldier, it was clear that Snape had seen and done terrible things.

Sirius Black, who only ever tolerated Snape's presence with ill grace, might be able to give Roy insight into what those terrible things were. He was all but snarling at Snape tonight, and Roy was quite sure that there were solid reasons Black was so easily framed for the murder of thirteen people.

"It is a perfectly legitimate question," Snape said. The gaunt man was not intimidated by Black's temper and was sneering across the room at him, though his eyes were locked on Roy. "I'm sure that even you, Black, can question the wisdom of sending a teenager to guard a teenager."

Black _had_ questioned it. The fact that he had that much in common with a man he so obviously hated was undoubtedly one tho the things that had him so riled up. It would be funny if both of them weren't so obviously ready to kill each other.

"And," Snape added, "I am here on the Headmaster's behalf to ensure all parties in this agreement are willing and able to uphold their roles."

Black glowered. "That _is_ why I let you in my house. Mustang, tell the man what he wants to know so he can leave."

"Elric is respected State Alchemist," Roy explained, as he had in a previous Order meeting.

"With no battle experience." Snape was not asking a question.

"Formal battle? No. But you wizards do not do real battle," Roy pointed out. "Your tactics more like… street fight. Maybe big brawl in big field. Reports of Potter's fights tell me he is not been in big battles. Elric has been in enough fights, has enough experience for this fighting."

Snape did not look convinced.

"What kind of experience could he get if he hasn't been in an official battle?" Black asked.

"Recently? He solved train hijacking. The entire terrorist group, at least twenty, including leader took a passenger train. Elric retook train, captured all terrorist alive, and no hostage died."

Snape's black eyes glittered as he stared Roy right in the eyes, as if trying to glare the truth from him. The tale did sound unlikely, but it was actually one of Edward's tamer adventures. The boy had a strange talent for achieving things that sounded completely ridiculous to outsiders. Roy suspected that was one of the reasons he had become such a folk hero; it wasn't hard for his exploits to grow in the telling if the exploits in question were already tall tales of such a short alchemist.

"Tch. If the boy is as good as you say, why send him to a school where he isn't available to clean up for you?" Snape asked.

Roy had to raise an eyebrow at that turn of phrase. What did this wizard know of Amestrian politics? But he had spent his career ignoring more pointed slights from people who had far greater baring on his goals than Severus Snape.

"I will tell you, as exchange of trust. You have shown your Order, and I know the problems you have with your government, so I will tell this: There is killer, who targets State Alchemists. This man has killed many skilled alchemists; those who fought in war, who are experienced have died because of him."

"What does this have to do with Edward?" Black asked. His voice was steady, but his grip on the arms of his chair was tight enough to make the leather creak.

Snape watched from his own perch, with a look that was too impassive to be truly detached.

"Before your message, his last attack was on Sal'noy – on Elric. Elric is only survivor of this man, and is only alive because an entire force arrived just in time."

"You believe that this man wishes to finish what he started with the boy." Snape's eyebrow was still raised, but he was a picture of calm compared to Black, who had left his chair and was pacing around the room.

"Edward is just a kid," he said. "He's what – fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Roy corrected. "It was very clear when I arrived that this man – we call Shram – does not care. Elric is State Alchemist, and is target for him."

Pale fingers drummed on the table as Snape leaned forward and said, "Potter isn't the only teenager who is being protected this year, is he?"

Black turned, and his pacing stilled. "You can't possibly think this – this 'Sharam' is going to come all the way to England."

"No, he will not. This is why this agreement was made. We send Elric to protect Potter, and in return, Sal'noy is not killed by Shram."

This time it was Snape who rose from his seat. Roy leaned back as the gaunt man loomed over him from across the coffee table. "Then you must have a low opinion of us indeed if you send a child to defend against the Dark Lord instead of having him face a mere serial killer," he hissed.

"Professor Snape," Roy said as he, too, finally stood, "when your Ministry asked us for a bodyguard for Potter, it was obvious they wanted for show only. When your Order asked us, you asked for real bodyguard who can avoid suspicious – from your enemies in rival army and in Ministry.

"Sending soldier for show only would be easy," he continued. Roy had a feeling that the Order had had an idea they were asking help from a man who wouldn't ignore them out of hand when they sent their message. The request from the Order of the Phoenix had been sent specifically and quietly after the English Ministry of Magic's request had been made, after it had been decided that Roy would be the one to assign someone to this case. "But I have brought you Edward Elric, known as Sal'noy – Sword Steel – who can and will help your Order. You are the ones who ask us for help, and we give it to you, but for a proper exchange we must also get help. What we get is keeping Elric away from one killer by putting him in the reach of another."

It was a choice that had not taken Roy long to make, but still one that tormented him. Politics was all too often choosing between the lesser of two evils, and Roy had long since learned to stop losing sleep over that. But this choice had him staring at his dark ceiling in the small hours of the night more than once. Unfortunately, Scar was still on the loose, and sending Edward abroad was a risk Roy had to take.

When the request for help had come from England, Roy had already been looking for ways to send Edward somewhere that could considered remotely safe. His map of Briggs had been on his desk as he had read the two letters. Sending Edward out of the country would be a gamble, and not an easy one to make, politically, but it was the only viable move.

Scar's record painted a bloody promise of what would happen if he met with Edward again, and Roy had only needed to point that out to get the necessary approval to send Edward abroad. Such a violent serial killer loose on the streets reflected poorly on the government; the people were already beginning to mutter about government incompetence. Losing their most popular State Alchemist to him would likely spark more than snide remarks.

So, Fullmetal had been ordered to a post 4,000 miles away from Scar, and the boy himself was ignorant of the fairly blatant reasoning behind the move because he completely ignored his own political influence as "The Peoples' Alchemist".

Black huffed out a gravelly laugh. "Help like hell. But, when you put it like that..." he trailed off, eyeing the guttering flames in the fireplace.

"Indeed. At least Elric will not be killed by Shram and I am sure this knowledge will grant you many a night's good sleep." With this parting line Snape grabbed a handful of powder on the mantlepiece, and threw it into the fire. The flames roared back to life, painting the room and unnatural green. Snape stepped into the sudden inferno and vanished.

Roy was counting the days before he could return to Amestris. There, he would deal with cutthroat officials, vicious political maneuvering, and the threat of being shot by Hawkeye, but he would finally be free from dealing with wizards.

/ /

I always wonder why no one wants to poke at Ed's position as Most Popular State Alchemist for fic. Honestly, if something suspicious happened to him, in any way, I can see a LOT of political unrest in Amestris' future. The people love him, and based on what we've seen, he's probably the only nationally loved official figure in all of the government, King Bradley nonwithstanding.

When bad things happen to such popular political figures in regimes that don't allow a whole lotta political expression... things go bad...

Also, you BET Ed's experiences with Nina is going to make interacting with dogpeople... uncomfortable. Especially if SOME PEOPLE drop that shit on him with no warning.

As always, you can come yell about Amestrian politics or whatever on my tumblr at BuffPidgey.


	6. Chapter 6

Again the update is Very Late, but that's because December is a very busy month. However, I put that time to good use, and now once again I have something of a buffer of pre-written chapter(s)!

Of course, some of it does depend on my wonderful, busy, wonderfully busy beta viscountfrancisbacon who is, as I mentioned, both wonderful and very busy.

 **Chapter Warnings:** Mentions of death, That Boggart What Upsets Mrs. Weasley, and also how does everyone keep forgetting that Resembool was actually attacked during the Ishval War?

/

Learning that someone was after Ed's life by eavesdroping on the adults' conversation should probably upset Harry more than it did. He tried to echo the drama and concern that had Hermione and Ron snipping at each other, but his heart wasn't in it. It just seemed like something that was too predictable to get worked up about.

He should probably take a moment to think about what that meant about his own life.

Probably nothing good.

Back in his and Ron's bedroom, they all had a quick discussion about whether they should tell Ed that he was a part of some kind of guard exchange program or not. Harry wanted to let Ed know what was going on, while Hermione pointed out that if they did that, they would have to explain _how_ they knew about the set up. Ron agreed with Hermione, not wanting to have to explain the Extendible Ears, or the additional eavesdropping they had done on Ed and Mustang.

"Besides," Ron added, "It sounds like Elric already knows about this bloke who's after him. We wouldn't be telling him anything new."

Harry grumbled at that, but he had to agree that if someone came to tell _him_ that a violent killer wanted him dead it would be a waste of everyone's time. And, he had to admit, the Extendible Ears were an advantage he didn't want to lose.

So, they decided to keep quiet about the situation for the time being. It wasn't that hard to do, since the summer was drawing to a close and everyone would be heading back to Hogwarts soon enough. There, Harry was sure, there wouldn't be much need to talk about potential murderers from Amestris, where either coursework or potential murderers from England would take up most of everyone's free time.

When everyone's school letters arrived, any feelings Harry had about Ron being chosen for Prefect over him were cut off by a nudge from Ed.

"What is that?" he asked in a low voice, nodding at the badge sitting on the table.

"A prefect badge," Harry replied, still trying to figure out why it was in Ron's letter, and not his.

"What is a prefect for?"

"Uh..." What were prefects for? Harry dredged up memories from the beginning of year feasts, and tried to ignore all the other memories of trying to dodge patrols after hours. "They show the first years where the dorms are, and generally try and make sure everyone follows the rules."

Ed snorted. "Baby police, then. No wonder you are not chosen."

Harry bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What use is police authority when police is being guarded?" Ed took a long sip of coffee, and grabbed a few more rolls for his plate. "Besides, I am surprised any of you are chosen for baby police. I hear you are not so fond of rules, either."

Peals of laughter burst out on both sides of Harry and Ed as the twins swept in, draping an arm over each. Ed flinched and wiggled out of reach.

The twin Ed had escaped from said, "Boy, Fred, does he have our little brother's group pegged."

"Absolutely, George. It's so nice to know that someone has been paying attention to how closely our little brother has followed in our footsteps."

"Even if the Headmaster hasn't."

"I think ol' Dumbledore has been trying to trick himself into thinking that Hermione's actually a lawful influence."

"Ha!"

With that, the twins disengaged and went to hassle Ron about his new appointment while Mrs. Weasley decreed there would be rewards and a party for this achievement.

Ed watched this while munching on a roll. He shot Harry a long, calculating look.

"Do not worry," he said after swallowing. "Rule-keeping is more trouble than it is worth. Is more fun to find ways to disobey rules while obeying letter of law." Then he grinned, and stuffed the remaining rolls into his pockets. He headed for the stairs, yelling something in Amestrian – Harry recognized Mustang's name in there, but nothing else.

Then, Ron met Harry's eyes over the fuss his family was making, and shrugged. He didn't look as miserable as he usually did when stuck in the middle of this kind of hubbub, but Harry figured that was from it being a positive hubbub.

Well, it wasn't like Ron asked for this. Harry gave his friend a small, wry smile. Immediately, Ron lit up, a real grin finally spreading across his freckled face, and something restless and knotted in Harry's chest settled back into place.

/

The party was a mixed success. At least, for Harry. He was glad to learn more about his dad from Sirius, and the scrapbook from Moody was another precious connection to his parents, but Moody was probably the last person Harry would ever invite to a party. When he finally slipped upstairs, Moody was deep in discussion with Mustang, who seemed far too comfortable with whatever Moody had to say.

Harry tried to chalk it up to Mustang still working on his English, but Mustang looked too engaged in the conversation to be politely covering for confusion. He didn't know what they could possibly be discussing, but he was glad he wouldn't have to find out.

That relieving thought was interrupted as he made his way through the upstairs hall. Sobbing, from across the landing, drew him from his room and-

Ron's body sprawled out on the floor. A cold finger of fear ran down his spine, and the sobbing was louder. This had to be a nightmare- like the other times he had seen Ron dead-

A CRACK and Ron's body turned into Bill's, then Mr. Weasley's, then, then-

Harry shouted, "Mrs. Weasley, just get out of there!" his eyes unable to look away from his own corpse. "Let someone else-"

"What's going on?"

Lupin and Sirius had come running, with Mustang arriving a breath later, and Moody bringing up the rear. Mustang's eyes widened, gaze darting between Harry and the boggart.

Moody's electric blue eye spun, and he muttered, "It's just a boggart, Colonel. They're shape shifters. It's no darker magic than that."

With another CRACK the boggart changed into a silvery orb as Lupin took over while Sirius gathered up Mrs. Weasley. She sobbed, and Harry felt another chill as he processed the words buried in her tears. "I see them d-d-dead all the time!" she moaned.

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the boggart had lain in the form of Harry's dead body. Moody was looking at Harry, who had a feeling Moody had tracked him all the way from the kitchen with his magical eye.

Trying to avoid the man's gaze, he instead caught the eye of a worried-looking Ed, who snapped something in as he looked over the scene. He gave Harry another, sharper once-over as Mustang answered him.

Mrs. Weasley was still beside herself. Harry opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but Ed clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come away," he said, tugging Harry away. "This is not a scene for all."

From where he was standing, Harry caught a flicker of movement as Mustang turned and went back downstairs. He let Ed guide him down the hall to the bedrooms, trying not to think about the fake dead bodies he'd seen. Or about and of the real ones, either. He wasn't very successful.

The hall was dark. Harry had had enough practice moving about in the dark, and he had been in Grimmauld Place long enough that he didn't need a light to find his bedroom door, but the memories and the quiet, broken murmurs from the conversation in the study made him wish for a light.

Ed's hand was heavy on Harry's shoulder, almost grounding him to the here and now in the dark. They stopped in front of the door, and the warm anchor slipped from his shoulder, and Harry had to suppress a shudder as something cold seemed to wash over his soul.

"Ed-" Harry stopped. It probably wasn't a good question, but, who else could he ask?

In the dark, Ed's eyes – oddly pale – almost seemed to glow. "Yes, Harry?"

"Ed, you're supposed to be in the military, right?"

Those bright eyes narrowed. "Supposed to be, yes. Why do you ask?"

He didn't sound angry, so Harry pressed on. "How d'you deal with it? I mean," he rushed to clarify what he meant as Ed took a breath in order to say something. "With the fighting. The stuff like Mrs. Weasley was worried about."

There was a soft click as Ed's mouth snapped shut. His brow was still furrowed, and he was silent for so long Harry began to worry that he'd overstepped. He felt tension tight enough to snap, then Ed broke the silence.

"I was not in war. Not before," he said, finally. "Yes, I am- dog of the military. Soldier, but I was not during last war. I was eight the only time that war touched my home. There was a bomb, on the train station." Ed was still tense as he spoke, but his eyes were wide, like he was trying to see beyond the present, into the past.

"Resembool is small. There is sheep – on farms, or there is the railroad. Many men died that day. All we heard was dull thud, like a big wood falling on ground. When we come back from school, and Granny was gone. She was working to save who she could, but..." Ed shook his head. "I don't know what you want me to say. There is no deal."

Ed's left hand came up to rub at his right shoulder. "Mrs. Weasley is smart to see the danger in war. You cannot reverse death."

"I know," Harry said, remembering first year, how cold his legs had gotten as he had sat hour after hour in his pajamas staring at the Mirror of Erised and the family he would never have. For the first time since he started speaking, Ed looked directly at Harry.

"You do," he said after a long moment, with a crooked smile that reminded Harry strongly of Sirius. Ed was still massaging his right shoulder. "Good. Remember that, walk forward."

Harry shot a glance at the door that was right in front of him.

Ed barked out a laugh. "Something like that. Is bed time. Tomorrow we travel to your school." The crooked smile straightened out into something a little more sardonic. "Such fun we will have, I am sure."

"Oh don't worry, you'll love Hogwarts," Harry told him. "The library is huge. I'm sure you'll have a grand time fighting Hermione over all the rare books."

"I will hold you to that."

/

The next morning was a brand of utter chaos that Hermione had almost managed to become accustomed to while living with the Weasleys. Her dentist parents didn't tend towards the sheer level of _noise_ that the Weasley clan seemed to thrive under, and of course the portrait of Mrs. Black didn't help. Her shrieking cut through any attempt to restore order, and since the chaos was ongoing until they all left, no one bothered to close the curtains.

This had the side-effect of badly distracting Edward, who had already put on his Hogwarts robes and was stopped in a terribly inconvenient place, namely, right in the middle of the front hall, glaring daggers at the yelling portrait. He had his trunk packed. Or at least, Hermione hoped that his trunk was packed, since he was using it as a step stool to get a better look at Mrs. Black, who had finally noticed the boy right under her nose, and was now hurling abuse directly at him.

Hermione was trying to get his attention to suggest that he not wear his robes until they got to the train, or to just shift him, but to her increasing frustration, she was being ignored. If he wasn't paying attention to her words, maybe he would pay attention to a shove-

She was just about to roll up her sleeves when someone in a dark coat moved into her periphery.

"How long has he been there?" Colonel Mustang asked, just loud enough to be understood over the dull roar.

"Oh, I don't know, but he needs to move!"

He smirked. "Do not worry. He will move." The Colonel took a breath, and said in a louder voice, "Oh, Elric! Finally figured out how to see where you are going?"

"WHO ARE YOU CALL SO SHORT-" Edward charged the few feet across the hall. By the time he was standing in front of his superior officer he had switched from English to Amestrian. For his part, Mustang looked completely unruffled, like negotiating the chaos of the Weasley clan and being cussed out by his subordinate was routine for him.

Hermione could only watch as Edward started to work up a truly impressive head of steam. Whatever he was saying to Mustang, it seemed he had only just started. Idly, Hermione wondered if they would be able to get Edward to move at all now without moving Mustang first.

However, Mrs. Weasley didn't have time for hypotheticals. "RIGHT, GET GOING! NOW!"

Mid-word, Edward's mouth snapped shut. Wordlessly, he retrieved his suitcase, and practically marched out the door. He was followed by Mustang, whose bemused look had somehow grown even more pronounced. Hermione followed them, while Sirius was right behind her, in dog form. He raced around the small front garden in circles, sniffing occasionally at spots of particular doggy interest.

Distracted by the antics of a technically fully grown adult wizard, Hermione almost ran into the Amestrians. They had both stopped dead in the path. She edged sideways, to see what had kept them up.

Edward's face was the same pale shade it had been the first time he had seen Sirius's Animagus form. His eyes were tracking Sirius as he gamboled about, but Hermione had a feeling he wasn't actually seeing the scene before him. Mustang shot an odd look at Sirius, but his gaze was firmly on Edward.

He still looked like he was watching a ghost, instead of a flesh and blood man. Well, flesh and blood dog. Hermione reached out, to give him a grounding pat on the shoulder. He flinched under her fingers, so violently it felt like his muscles were solid as stone.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, fine." Edward's face was still white, but his voice was firm enough. "He is fine too."

Hermione wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, but she answered anyway. "He's fine, probably better than usual. It's been ages since he's been outside." She didn't know if Edward's problem was with dogs or animagi, but there was really no time to dissect it right now. With the veritable crowd they had, they needed to get moving if they were to make it to the Hogwarts Express on time.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Moody stumped towards them. "Not a good look, boy," he growled. "Robes where muggles can see them is just asking for trouble."

"Excuse?" Edward asked, finally wrenching his gaze away from Sirius, who was currently belly up, and wiggling happily on the grass.

Moody jerked his head at the boy. "Yer robes. Open your trunk and get some muggle clothing before we leave. Can't draw attention to ourselves."

Hermione thought that Moody's constantly moving electric blue eye would draw just as much attention as Edward's robes, but she said nothing.

Edward frowned. "These clothes are for the school," he said. "I wear them to this school. You want me… not wear these clothes?"

Before Moody could repeat himself yet again, Mustang sighed, and spoke a few rapid phrases of Amestrian. The only word Hermione caught was "muggles", and she wished she had her translating spell. She did, however, easily understand when Edward's eyebrows shot up in sudden understanding. His exaggerated eye roll was equally comprehensible.

He set his trunk on the ground, but instead of opening it up to find a shirt, Edward shucked off the outer layer of his robes, folded them, and laid them carefully on the trunk. Then, he closed his eyes, and clapped his hands. When he touched his robes, lightning sparked and crackled, drawing the attention of everyone in the front garden.

Over a few exclamations, Hermione heard Mustang mutter. "Really. Now, Edward?"

The lightning died quickly, and Edward grabbed his robes, shaking them out. Now unfolded, Hermione could see that they had been transfigured. The black material now looked more like a long muggle jacket instead of Hogwarts robes.

"Better, yes?" Edward asked as he pulled his new coat on.

Moody was not appeased. "Magic in front of muggles-"

"Not magic," Edward interrupted. "Alchemy. And no one noticed."

"He's not wrong, Alastor," Mrs. Weasley said as she came down the garden path. "Besides, we need to get moving, or we'll miss the train!"

With that, the entire party set off.

Hermione was sure she wasn't the only one who wanted to know more about the alchemy Edward had used on his coat – the twins were muttering fiercely between themselves while staring at Edward's back – but he was deep in conversation with Mustang. She supposed it was only polite to give Edward this last chance to talk with the man, seeing as he was about to leave for ten months. Besides, discussing something like alchemy out in the open where muggles could hear probably wasn't the best idea.

Fortunately, the walk to King's Cross was only twenty minutes, and soon they emerged into the full bustle of the platform. Hermione had elected to be one of the first to go through the barrier, since she knew that time was growing short. Though she did regret not being able to see Edward when he realized he had to walk through a wall.

/

Somewhere, someone was laughing at him, Ed knew. That somewhere was actually about two feet behind him and to the left where he absolutely KNEW the Weasley twins were snickering at him, though the ambient noise and bustle of a train station kept him from hearing them.

"What is wrong with wizards?" he asked Mustang in Amestrian. "Walking through a _wall_? I thought they wanted to be inconspicuous."

Mustang shrugged. "That's not really your problem, is it," he said. He was still watching the wall through which Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Harry had vanished, but he spared a glance at Ed just to smirk. "Are you worried about going splat?"

Ed bristled. "Of course not. This whole set up… it just seems stupid, that's all. "

"Oh, of course. You're only concerned about this set up."

Bastard. "You're only goading me because _you're_ worried."

In response, Mustang started striding forward, directly towards the wall. When he hit it, he vanished, just like the first group had. Ed charged right after him, because that kind of showing off absolutely deserved a punch to the face. But, because of time constraints, yelling at him would have to do.

He finished calling Mustang a damn showoff just as the final members of the group made it through the archway, which was just in time for goodbyes, it seemed.

Advice was being handed out by the adults to the leaving children, and Mrs. Weasley was hugging everyone she could reach. Somehow, she managed to catch Ed.

Ed froze in the warm embrace, but fortunately it lasted only a moment. He had one moment to try and process all his thoughts – had she felt his automail, when was the last time he had been hugged like that, how had he even been caught – before Mustang dragged him off to the side for last second orders.

"Make sure you send in a report at least once a week," he said, in Amestrian.

"Yeah, I know the deal. I report on time, and you make sure my letters get to Al."

Mustang continued as if Ed hadn't said anything. "It's unlikely that you'll face any actual physical danger in the school, aside from what's already there, but the political situation will be uncertain. Don't alienate anyone you don't have to. Political allies are going to be important to you for the duration. While you're doing your research, make sure that you don't forget to attend meals and class-"

"And blend in and play nice with all the other kids, and make sure Harry doesn't get any scrapes, I get it," Ed said, throwing a hand up in impatience.

Mustang shook himself, obviously ruffled at being interrupted. "And, of course, make sure Potter is safe." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"I get it, bastard Colonel. I'll be a good little d- soldier. I'll do my reports. You'd better make sure my letters get to Al."

"I'll hold up my end of the deal," Mustang said. "Make sure you hold up yours. And make sure they are actual reports, Fullmetal, like I know you can write." With his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, he looked hunched over, as if a cold wind was blowing through the station, instead of the few muffled gusts that had managed to wend their way through the crowds.

Ed flapped a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. I know what to do."

The warning whistle from the train cut short whatever further orders Mustang had.

The man sighed. "Go, Fullmetal, if you miss the train we'll have to deal with whatever overly complicated contingencies the wizards have."

Ed shuddered at the idea. "Goodbye, Colonel," he said. He might have even saluted the man, if he weren't ostensibly undercover. "If nothing else, I'll miss being able to speak Amestrian."

Mustang smirked. "Better you than me," he said. The final words of Amestrian Ed would hear for months.

/

The Hogwarts Express was as beautiful inside as it was on the outside. While Ed had ridden on many trains in the last few years, he would be hard pressed to think of a train a nice as this one. He admired the nice carpets and the fancy little details of the cars as one by one, the group they had arrived in split off until it was just him, Harry, and Ginny left. They made their way down the train, passing compartment after compartment full of kids.

The kids stared at Harry, some of them nudging their companions and pointing. Ed remembered this from the few times he had been recognized in the streets. Well, when people assumed they recognized AL in the streets.

But these looks were different from the ones he and Al got – they were more like the farm wives from Resembool sharing some bit of scandalous gossip. Harry was persona non grata with the wizard government right now, but Ed hadn't expected the kids to be so interested in politics.

He hoped that the kids wouldn't make his job more annoying. If he had to spend ten months foiling pathetic wizard pranks, he was going to make Mustang pay when he got back.

Maybe he could write all his reports in crayon. Or maybe with his automail hand. Or he could use his toes and –

He almost ran into Ginny's trunk when their little procession stopped in front of a round-faced boy, who was holding a struggling toad.

The kids were saying something about a Lun-something, but Ed was staring at the toad. He had seen what use owls could be, and he had seen a few cats sitting on students' laps on the train, but why on earth did this kid have a toad?

What the hell, wizards.

Whatever dispute had sprung up was settled when Ginny opened the compartment door. There was already one occupant, a girl with long blonde hair, reading a newspaper.

"Hi Luna, is it ok if we take these seats?" Ginny asked.

Luna nodded, and they all piled in. After they managed to store four separate trunks and an owl cage, Ed managed to get the window seat, and was missing travel with Al. Life was so much simpler when you only had to worry about one suitcase and two people.

With everybody seated, Ed realized that Luna and the boy with the toad were staring at him.

"I didn't realize you would be, er, joining us," the boy said, settling his toad into one of his pockets. What the hell.

"OH!" Harry said, louder than necessary, "He, er-"

Two words in and Ed knew any explanation Harry came up with would be a disaster "I am here to study," he said, cutting off whatever lie Harry had been trying to fabricate. "I was having trouble finding entrance. They helped."

For the last three days, Mustang had been quizzing Ed about his cover story. Ed was pretty good at improvising, but he had to admit that it was nice to have something prepared ahead of time.

Luna looked up from her newspaper. "Your accent… I take it you're not from around here."

"No, I am from Amestris."

"Don't they practice alchemy there, instead of magic?" she asked.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "How do you know?"

"I read it in The Quibbler," Luna said, lifting her newspaper to demonstrate. "Amestris is an artificially created nation that was created by a feud between the Sage of the East and the Sage of the West when they had an argument over whether Xing had the best alchemy or not."

Ed had no idea how to deal with that, and could only stare as an uncomfortable silence settled in the compartment.

Eventually, toad boy saved them. "Um, what's your name?" he asked, changing the topic to something safer.

"Edward Elric." Ed was happy to follow him.

"I-I'm Neville Longbottom." He offered his right hand.

Luna swooped in to shake it. "Luna Lovegood," she said.

"Luna's in Ravenclaw," Ginny added.

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," Luna said in a singsong voice.

Neville dropped Luna's hand quickly. "Oh, Ravenclaw means that she's in the Ravenclaw House. Er, in Hogwarts, for Houses, I mean."

The conversation dropped into Neville and Luna giving Ed a quick rundown of the Hogwarts Houses (which had been covered in his briefing) and their ghosts (which had NOT) before getting to the Sorting Hat, where the conversation stalled as Neville wondered if Ed was going to be "sorted" like the first-years.

During this whole conversation, Harry and Ginny had remained silent, not adding anything. Ed wanted to roll his eyes. It was like they wanted him to get caught out.

Though Ed had to admit, he wasn't exactly contributing a whole lot to the conversation himself. He DID already know most of this stuff, aside from the part about the ghosts. Which he was going to investigate as soon as he had an opportunity.

Then he was going to write a scathing report to Mustang about his peoples' incomplete intelligence. Because who the hell misses something like _ghosts_? Especially if they were as active as the kids said they were.

Ed was interrupted in the mental composition of his first report when Neville started digging around his his bag. It seemed that while he wasn't paying attention, the conversation had shifted. Now Neville was pulling out the most diseased-looking plant Ed had ever seen, while shoving his bag and toad at Harry.

"It has the most amazing defense mechanism," Neville said as he aimed a quill pen at the thing.

He jabbed it.

The compartment was coated in stinking dark liquid. Neville apologized profusely and assured the it wasn't poisonous, which was particularly good for Harry, who spat out a mouthful of the stuff.

Then, the door slid open to reveal a girl with blue trim on her robes, and long black hair. She and Harry exchanged awkward hellos, before she made a quick getaway, not that Ed blamed her.

Harry slumped back in his seat with a groan, and Ginny managed to get rid of all of the Stinksap with a spell.

"Thank you," Ed told her. "I was not sure what it was made of. You can not do alchemy without knowing that."

"Do you really practice alchemy?" Luna asked, peering over her magazine at him.

Ed spent the next hour fielding basic questions about alchemy, and it was, as far as he was concerned, the best part of the day yet. It got even better when a lady with a cart full of snacks came along. Wizards might have been a pain in the ass, but at least they had food.

/

It's taken us six chapters, but we're finally at Hogwarts! Kind of! Not really. Does the Hogwarts Express count?

Anyway, there are two conversations in this chapter that I worked really hard on, one because of world building, and the other because of characterization. In the FMA timeline this takes place basically just as Ed and Al are trying to deal with the Library burning down Marco's research, and they only JUST managed to meet Schezka in time before Ed left. So they haven't decoded the research yet, and more importantly: Ed did meet Maria Ross, but That Thing didn't happen yet, so he's still on that rocky not-quite-friend-not-quite-enemy almost-trust-but-it's-more-just-familiarity thing with Roy.

Sadly, Roy is now going to be physically absent for quite some time. I hope you enjoyed his parting scene!

As always, you can find me at buffpidgey on tumblr! (Currently my blog is celebrating the birthday week of Hunk from Voltron because that boy is Amazing and Wonderful and doesn't get enough love.)


	7. Chapter 7

Amazingly we have TWO (2!) updates in one month! This hasn't happened since Days of Yore, my goodness. In any case, huge thanks to viscounfrancisbacon, who managed to finish editing this chapter on the last day I had to ensure that this chapter was up today.

I was in line at the post office, just thinking that if this chapter wasn't finished today I'd have to wait till next month, and I got a text from vis! Praise vis!

Chapter Warnings: Umbridge sucks and so does being called a liar.

/

After eating, Ed drifted off. He hadn't really planned to fall asleep on this train ride – listening to the kids talking amongst themselves was boring, but it would be helpful in the long run – but the one-two combo of a full belly and the familiar rocking of the train enticed him to lean his head back and rest his eyes. Just for a little …

Someone shrieked and Ed jerked awake.

He blinked sleep out of his eyes, and looked around, wondering if something had happened to the kid. Had Harry been attacked so _soon_? But his quick scan of the compartment revealed that what he thought was a scream had just been Luna, laughing so hard she had tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Ed slumped back into his seat, relieved.

"S-sorry," Luna choked out. "But… baboon's… backside!"

That didn't mean anything to Ed, but he said, "It is alright," anyway. He glanced at Harry, who had acquired Luna's magazine and was looking at it as though it were written in code. The words "The Quibbler" didn't mean anything to Ed, either. The brief little spat cleared up what the magazine was – some kind of sensationalized business, like the news sheets back in Amestris that tried to claim that Mustang was his dad or something – but that still didn't explain what a "quibbler" was. Oh well, he'd look it up later.

Before the silence got too awkward, the door opened, and in stepped one of the few non-Gryffindors who had been included in the briefing. Draco Malfoy reminded Ed of some of those military officials who were way too impressed with their presumed power. He wondered what the kid would look like balding and with a little pencil mustache.

Malfoy then proceeded to brag about his position as a school baby-cop, which only cemented Ed's impression of him. An ambitious brat who'd just got his first taste of real power.

Well, not actual "power", more like "authority". If Malfoy decided to let the power go to his head (if he hadn't already) the worst he could do would be to give some kids a few bad days at school. He wasn't likely to destroy the economy of a small town or force entire families into poverty and out of the farms they'd lived on for generations.

Ed watched Harry yell at the kid, wondering what Malfoy would be impressed by. As scummy as these types were, they were damn easy to manipulate if you knew what you were doing. And Mustang _had_ told him to make political alliances…

Malfoy left after saying something about dogs which made Ed wonder if the kid knew about Sirius's power. He'd been included in the briefings for a reason, and if his family knew about the animal shapeshifting thing, that could be bad. As long as he was at school, however, there wasn't much he could do about it. He would make a note of it in his report, but as far as Ed was concerned, anything that happened outside of the school was Mustang's problem, not his.

As darkness fell, it got harder and harder to see the scenery outside past his reflection in the window. When Hermione suggested that they all change into their robes, he gave it up entirely as the compartment descended into the chaos of six people trying to get at their trunks. Ed escaped early, retreating to the relative peace of the hall, and the other boys followed suit eventually. Then the girls filed out to let the boys take their turn. Ed reluctantly followed, figuring that he might as well transmute his robes back to their original shape in the relative privacy of the compartment.

He shucked off his robes, and folded them before setting them on the seat. Behind him, the other boys were stripping down to their underthings, and he did his best to ignore them. It seemed that four years of boarding school gave kids the same lack of body shyness as soldiers.

Ed, having been neither an enlisted man, nor a boarding school student, wasn't very eager to change so easily in front of, well, anyone really. Except for Al, and Winry and Granny. But Al was his little brother, and the Rockbells were his automail mechanics and had seen almost every inch of his body, with the possible exception of his actual internal organs.

Even if he wasn't leery of strutting around for people he barely knew, the fewer people who knew about his automail the better. Especially here in England where their cars were damn impressive, but they apparently had no automail. Instead, Ed had changed before leaving Grimmauld Place.

"Are, um, are you not changing?" the new boy, Neville asked in a slightly muffled voice.

A glance over his shoulder revealed more teen boy skin than Ed really wanted to see, and Neville facing a corner. Was he not keen on this whole business either? Or was he trying to afford Ed, the stranger, a little privacy? Either way, Ed wasn't asking.

"He's already wearing his robes," Ron said, pulling his arms through the huge sleeves of his own robes, and completely disregarding the cover story Ed had set up just hours ago.

"What?" Neville's voice was even more muffled as he pulled his head through his collar. "But he's not-"

Not wanting to deal with any of this, Ed completed his transmutation. The light and sound of an alchemical reaction effectively cut off the conversation.

"Not quite my robes," he said as he pulled them on. "I transmuted them, for getting to platform."

The door opened, and Luna poked her head in.

She ignored the three high-pitched shrieks as she asked, "Was that alchemy?"

Ed tried not to laugh at the boys covering themselves with whatever they were in the process of putting on. "Yes, it was," he said with as straight a face as he could manage.

"CLOSE THE BLOODY DOOR!" Ron yelled. The red on his face reaching past his collar.

Luna ignored him. "Oh, I see! You must have transmuted your robes as-" she was interrupted as Hermione grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back.

"I think we should let the boys finish changing," she said.

"Oh… right..." Luna closed the door.

The boys finished changing pretty quickly after that.

/

When Harry saw the woman calling for first years, he was obviously upset. Ed wanted to tell him that Hagrid was off on some errand for Dumbledore, but the middle of a milling crowd of schoolchildren was a terrible place for political conferences. They still made it to where they were supposed to go next in time.

As they neared the carriages that were to take them up to the castle, Ed wondered who was in charge of the horseflesh for Hogwarts. He hadn't ever worked directly with horses, but living in Resembool you picked a few things up, and these nags looked so skinny they-

Ed stopped in his tracks. They weren't just skinny nags.

Dimly, he heard Harry asking the same question he had just been thinking, and he listened in. These things looked like something out of – he shuddered – Tucker's lab. Equine, reptilian and with huge wings; they were animals he'd never seen before.

But, as Harry's question was derailed by Ron's search for his owl, Ed saw all the other children calmly walking up to the carriages and getting in, as though there were nothing wrong.

Luna returned Ron's owl, then turned to him, giving him a passing glance before spinning, as if to see what he was looking at.

"Oh," came her dreamy voice eventually. "You see them too?"

Ed nodded. "What are they?"

"Thestrals," she said. "The only tamed herd in all of Britain." Then she went up to Harry, and said something to him, too.

It didn't seem very reassuring, though, judging by the look on Harry's face.

Everyone had gotten into the carriage but Harry and Ed, and it looked like Harry was about to join them. Freaky chimera horses be damned, if Ed lost his principal on the first day Mustang would never let him hear the end of it.

He charged forward, determined to deal with the uncanny aura that alchemical chimeras produced. If he had managed to spend hours upon hours in Shou Tucker's house despite that place being steeped in the uncomfortable aura that came with such types of biological alchemy, he could manage a little ride up to the castle, damn it.

It took Ed longer than he would ever admit to realize that the feeling of taboo he had been bracing for was completely absent. This close to a chimera, any alchemist who knew more than a few arrays would have been able to feel the disturbance that a chimera created, yet the whole ride Ed felt nothing. Nothing but sore from sitting so long.

That, in addition to the comment Luna had made about there being a herd, started to cement the idea in Ed's head that these thestrals weren't chimeras. They certainly weren't natural creatures – nothing natural could survive with so little flesh – but they could be magical.

Ed sighed. Yet another thing he would have to look up. He couldn't wait until he had time to visit the library.

/

For Hermione, the Great Hall was always a fascinating tableaux of ancient magic that had been carefully preserved into the modern day. The enchantment on the ceiling wasn't the only magic the founders had cast into the stones. Every year Dumbledore's opening remarks carried easily to every ear thanks to the special amplification charms Rowena had cast as she had aged and found she could no longer hear as well. She and Helga had managed an enchantment that ensured that, when a speaker wished, they could be heard by everyone in the Hall. Of course, the enchantment worked only at the Head Table and along the center aisle. No one sitting at the tables was allowed to use the magic, a choice Hermione fully agreed with. She would hate to see what kind of disgusting lies Malfoy and his ilk would spread. Not to mention the potentially ear-damaging House Shouting Matches that she could see happening.

This year, there was a wave of unease as she walked to the Gryffindor table. Whispers and pointing spread out as Harry passed. He walked without glancing left or right, face carefully neutral.

The whispers only grew as Edward passed. At least he seemed genuinely unconcerned, head whipping around, trying to take in all the sights like a first year. He did a double take when he finally spotted the ceiling.

"Enchanted, yes?" he asked Hermione.

She nodded. "Yes, by the four founders. You can read about their methods in Hogwarts: A History."

"Will you show me library soon, then?" he asked, taking a seat at the table.

"Absolutely!"

Harry leaned over, and hissed, "Hagrid's not there."

Looking up at the staff table, Hermione saw that Harry was right. Hagrid was missing, which was extremely conspicuous, given his size. She bit her lip as she saw something else worrying.

"Who is she?" she asked, pointing at the woman in pink in the middle of the staff table. She gave off a smug attitude that reminded Hermione of a dental assistant at her parents' practice – one who had been fired after three months fore embezzling.

"It's that Umbridge woman," Harry said. "She was at my trial! She works for Fudge."

"Nice cardigan," Ron said, smirking.

Hermione scanned the staff table. "Oh no..." she said when she couldn't see any other new faces. "Surely not..."

Before she could tell the boys, the first years paraded in and the Sorting Hat was placed on its stool.

"What is..." Edward started to say before the Hat burst into song.

It was hard to pay attention to what the Hat was singing while Hermione could see Edward from the corner of her eye. One hand was gripping the edge of the table, as if to brace himself. Every few seconds he would make a strange full-body motion, as if he was about to stand up but always thought better of it. When the Hat was describing the values of the four founders, Edward turned in his seat to face Hermione and grabbed her arm.

"What is that?" he hissed, his grip tight as a vice. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth drawn into a taut line. Something about his expression reminded her of the look he had the night he had first seen Sirius's animagus form.

"It's the Sorting Hat," Hermione hissed back, voice low so as not to disturb the ceremony, trying to jerk away. "Just listen to the song, it will explain."

Edward snapped his hand open, and turned back, just in time for Hermione to hear the Hat warn of divisions in Hogwarts and the dangers they could pose. An ominous topic, when the Hat usually just provided an abridged version of the founding of Hogwarts, the tradition of the Hat, and the values of the four founders.

Even Sir Nearly Headless Nick agreed, though according to the ghost such warnings had happened in the past. The news didn't really comfort Hermione much, given how many unfortunate things had happened at the school in the past. She had read _Hogwarts: A History_. She knew that even Hogwarts was not a perfect bastion of safety. And that understanding had only been reinforced during her years at Hogwarts.

The boys didn't look pleased, either. Especially Edward, who was beginning to look haggard with how uncomfortable he seemed. Ghosts could be unsettling to newcomers, but Sir Nick was by no means the worst ghost to have an inaugural ghost experience with. (That was undoubtedly the Bloody Baron.) During the Sorting itself, Edward hardly seemed to relax at all, while Ron and Harry joined in the applause whenever a first year was sorted into Gryffindor.

Dumbledore announced the feast, and it was easy to see that Edward's appetite hadn't been affected by whatever misgivings he had about Hogwarts. Once everyone was full and the plates were magically cleared, Dumbledore once again rose to begin his start of term speech.

"Now that we are all digesting our magnificent feast, I would like to welcome again all newcomers to our castle. This includes both first years, and a very special guest." Here, Dumbledore peered through the hall. "Mr. Elric, if you would stand up, please?"

Edward rose to his feet, glancing at the sea of faces that had turned to stare directly at him with a surprisingly calm face, given that he was just thrust into the spotlight.

"Ah, I see you've chosen to sit at the Gryffindor table!" Dumbledore said. "A capital choice, if I do say so myself."

Hermione heard Edward mutter under his breath, "Yes. Choice."

"Mr. Edward Elric is an alchemist who has traveled all the way from Amestris to study with us. I hope you will all make him feel welcome." Dumbledore paused while another wave of applause washed through the hall. "If you will sit, Mr. Elric, I can continue with my speech and we may get to our beds all the sooner!"

Edward took his seat again, and Dumbledore went through the usual beginning of year list of rules that shouldn't be broken, and introduced the new professors, Grubbly-Plank and Umbridge. He was about to discuss Quidditch tryouts when he was interrupted. The woman Harry had identified as working for Fudge, Umbridge, stood up and proceeded to give a speech right in the middle of the one Professor Dumbledore was giving.

It turned out to be, as Dumbledore said, most illuminating.

Harry and Ron didn't agree.

"It sounded like a load of waffle," Harry said.

"There was some important stuff hidden in that waffle," said Hermione, grimly.

"Was there?" said Ron blankly.

Edward leaned in. "Oh yes," he snorted. "My English is not perfect, but, was still obvious."

"What was obvious?" Ron asked again.

"'Progress for progress' sake must be discouraged'?" Hermione said. When that didn't get a response she tried, "How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

Again the boys were drawing a blank. Though Edward was gazing at the teachers' table with a thoughtful expression.

"It means," said Hermione through gritted teeth, "The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

/

The path to the Gryffindor common room was surprisingly lonely without Ron and Hermione, even though stares and whispers followed him through the halls. At least Ed was there. Some of new rumors flying between students were probably even about him, instead of Harry.

Harry had wondered how Dumbledore was going to explain Ed. The short introduction he had given Ed at the feast wasn't going to last long in the Hogwarts' rumor mill, but Ed had shown on the train that he already had a cover story suited to people who weren't a part of the Order. If Ed could manage to make it through the first ten days or so of the term, there was sure to be some other gossip-worthy thing that would take all the focus away from Ed.

Going by Harry's luck, it would probably be something about him. He hoped that Ed appreciated it.

They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Harry realized he didn't know the password.

"Oh good," Ed muttered. "More moving picture."

The Fat Lady looked down her nose at that comment. "No password, no entrance," she said loftily.

"I know, I know," Harry said.

Neville saved them from a potentially indefinite wait, arriving just in the nick of time with the password. Harry passed through the common room, not feeling much like talking. Neville and Ed followed him up to the boys' dormitory where Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan completely obviously stopped talking just as they arrived.

The pleasant greetings lasted just until Seamus explained that his mum didn't want him to come back to Hogwarts.

"It's a shock that you decided to come here and all," he said, nodding at Ed. "My mum was all kinds of upset over what she's been reading in the _Prophet_."

"Maybe in Amestris they don't believe obvious lies," Harry said, shoving his robes into his trunk. He cracked a knuckle on the lid, but the sting felt far away. He was just so tired of the whole production. The whispering, the lies in newspapers, the way everyone felt that they knew about him better than he did.

"Don't have a go at my mother," snapped Seamus.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar!"

Seamus reared up, mouth open, but a huge THUNK stopped him. Ed was standing over his large trunk, hands open. The trunk's lid was agape from being dropped on the ground. He met the various shocked stares he was receiving with a bored expression.

"How long will you argue?" he asked. "It was long day, and I wish to sleep soon."

Harry felt an unexpected pang of betrayal. Ed was supposed to be on his side, and back him up. Hell, he was hired to be his bodyguard! Couldn't he at least show some loyalty to Harry during something like this?

"What do you think about all this, then? Dean asked.

Ed shrugged. "I think last year your Tournament was rigged. I know last year someone murdered student. And I think it stupid thinking Harry is killer."

Seamus rounded on Ed now. "If you think all that, if you think You-Know-Who is back, then how come you're here?"

"The library." Ed's grin was vicious.

"Blimey, you sound like Hermione," Ron said from the doorway.

Seamus shook his head. "You're mad," he said simply. "I don't know about Potter, but he's definitely mad." He pointed at Ed, who seemed completely unbothered by this accusation.

Harry bristled at the implication, though, and Ron did too.

"That's out of order, Seamus," he said.

"What, you think it's normal to go around thinking You-Know-Who is back? Or going to a different country for a bloody library?"

The row raged on, until Neville's quiet support for Harry shut it down. Seamus and Dean rolled into their own beds, and Seamus vanished behind the thick bed hangings. Neville gazed fondly at his cactus while Ron shuffled about, shucking off his robes and getting ready for bed.

In the quiet, Harry heard the click of a door opening, and quiet but solid footsteps as Ed made his way to his trunk. He threw his robes on the lid, and climbed into bed. There was a flash of white that stood out from the bright red of Ed's long-sleeved shirt, and Harry realized that Ed was still wearing gloves. Was he planning on wearing them in his sleep?

Whatever, it wasn't Harry's business if Ed wore gloves to bed. At least the gloves weren't trying to call him crazy.

/

Wakefulness came slowly to Ed, shrouded as he was by the thick velvet curtains. He had pulled them tight shut last night to keep any of the wizard boys from seeing his automail by chance as he slept, but it seemed they didn't block sound. Hushed shuffling and the loud click of a door were ignorable, but Harry making some kind of petulant remark pulled Ed fully to the world of the waking.

With consciousness came the realization that he now had to navigate his way through the petty arguments of teens who had half-formed political ideas based on things they overheard their parents say. Again.

Usually, Ed was able to navigate these kinds of situations with the convenient ace of being able to leave as soon as his mission was over. This time, he was going to be in this castle and sharing a room with these boys for at least another eighteen weeks. He had to find a way to establish some kind of stable rapport with the people in this dorm that weren't Harry and Ron.

Last night's argument had been… not a total disaster, in Ed's estimation. It had been almost impossible to understand what the Seamus guy's problem was. In his briefing, Ed had been told that the Prophet was obviously the state-influenced paper. Surely people knew that papers that were hand-in-hand with the state could only be trusted so far? Even in Amestris it was hard to find people who believed everything printed in the state-run papers sight unseen.

Yet that seemed not to be the case here. So Ed had tried to lean on the impressive reputation of Hogwarts' library, and that hadn't seemed to have any effect in changing the course of the argument.

So Ed had decided that instead of dealing with politics that clearly nobody in the room fully understood, he would take the chance to go change. With the wizards so effectively distracted, none of them would question his desire to keep an entire locked door between him and them while they all seemed to have no concern about changing in front of each other.

Which the boys seemed to be doing now, Ed noted as he drew the curtain aside. The Seamus kid had vanished, and the other one Ed didn't know was leaving. Ron and Neville were still changing, as was Harry. Yet another small bit of luck; it would be awkward if Ed lost his charge on his first day of real bodyguard duty.

"Oh, hey Elric," Ron said. He was still shirtless, and his red hair was still mussed from sleep. "If you'd slept much longer we would have had to wake you."

Neville nodded. "It would have been bad to be late for the first day of term."

"Good morning," Ed said. It was good to be polite, as Al and Granny told him. Plus, he didn't really have much to say to that. He then crawled out of bed and collected his robes from his trunk, before locking himself in the washroom to change.

He was out before Ron even managed to find a comb, and was able to follow as Harry and Ron meandered downstairs to meet Hermione. It seemed that she had an argument over Harry last night too, though Ed got the impression that she was able to shut it down pretty effectively, since she managed to shut Harry down easily by pointing out that he shouldn't snap at people who were on his side.

At breakfast, Ed paused to see the schedule that was passed out, which seemed to be so distressing to the rest of the group. Among the list of teacher names that had been in his briefing, two stood out immediately – Snape and Umbridge. Snape was supposedly an Order member in good standing, but had a contentious relationship with Harry, while Umbridge was a Ministry mole.

Ed had expected her to be more subtle about it, but her speech at the feast had been transparent to him, and he didn't even understand one in three of the words she used. It made at least part of his job easier.

The shower of owls was the second noteworthy interruption to breakfast. A large great horned owl landed in front of him and tried to drop a thick envelope in his oatmeal. He caught it, but immediately wished he hadn't when he recognized the handwriting. Usually Ed saw Mustang's writing scrawled on paperwork that had probably sat at his desk for a week longer than it should have, not on a crisp envelope.

Opening the letter, Ed read,

'To: Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist,

'This owl has been purchased for use in your mission with military funds, to enable your smooth communication with your superiors.

'Unless you are somehow gravely injured, this means you will get your reports in on time, Ed, NO EXCUSES.'

Even though it was Colonel Bastard's words, it was nice to read Amestrian again, Ed had to admit. The words "no excuses" were underlined three times, and the Colonel had torn the paper on the last line.

Yet, he had continued using the same sheet of paper,

'As the owl was purchased in order to aid your mission, using her for personal purposes would be an unsanctioned action. This owl's purpose is to deliver the envelope containing your mission reports to your superior. However, should the need arise during your mission you may also use her as a postal owl, instead of resorting to one of the owls provided by Hogwarts.

'Lt. Hawkeye has named the owl Brown Akatsiya.

'Signed, Colonel Mustang, the Flame Alchemist.'

Ed finished reading the letter in time to look up as Brown Akatsiya helped herself to some of his bacon. She looked like she wasn't about to go anywhere, so Ed pulled a pencil from the pocket of his robes and scrawled 'Message received Colonel' on the inside flap of the envelope. Once the owl was finished stealing from his plate, he offered her the envelope.

"Bring this back to Mustang," he said. A thought struck him, and he repeated his request in Amestrian, just in case.

Brown Akatsiya hooted and grabbed the envelope before flying off. Ed stuffed the letter in his pocket. He understood the Colonel's message loud and clear. Any letters he wanted to send to Al would have to be smuggled out under the guise of "reports". It was annoying, and it suggested that someone was reading his mail, but at least the bastard was trying to keep up his end of the bargain.

The rest of breakfast, post-owl invasion, was uneventful. After Hermione and the others read the headlines of the newspaper, she discarded it. Ed snagged it, seeing a chance to get better acquainted with what the government thought was important to communicate to the masses today, and a way to avoid being pulled into conversations that revolved almost entirely about school things. Ed was only here for one year, and any grades he got would ultimately not matter. He wasn't coming back next year, and he already had a paying job.

The twins arrived, and joined in on the school talk. They offered a way to get out of class – some kind of magical candy they were developing. That, Ed took note of. If they did manage to perfect it, a way to escape the teachers without arousing suspicion might come in handy.

After they left, a girl with black skin came to talk very insistently at Harry about something that sounded like a sport, another topic Ed had little experience in and less interest. She left after extracting a promise from Harry to help with something on the team.

Finally, it looked like breakfast was over. Ed gladly followed Harry and his friends to their first class, History of Magic. From what the wizard kids had said about it, Ed was fairly sure that he would be able to compose a good deal of his reports during the class.

In the classroom, he took a seat between Harry and the door. Nothing in the briefing ever suggested that Harry would be attacked during class, however, Ed figured that it wouldn't hurt to actually act like an undercover bodyguard once and a while.

He was setting up his quaint, but high-quality inkwell and parchment when Professor Binns floated through the chalkboard.

Ed snapped his quill in half.

/

Author's notes:

Nobody knew about ghosts in the briefing because when the reports were sent out from Hogwarts nobody thought to specify things like "there are ghosts" and "we have tons of moving suits of armor" because the wizard version of normal is waaayyyyy different than the alchemist version of normal.

I just want to say that Ed is TERRIBLE at social situations that we would consider "normal". When he WAS in school his only friends were his brother and Winry, then he's spent the rest of his life neck-deep in alchemy. Sure he travels and can schmooze if he needs to, but the only person he talks to on a regular basis in the beginning of the series is Al. (And that's when this fic takes place, for Ed) Soooo Ed is super out of practice talking to people his age.


	8. Chapter 8

I know a lot of people were excited about this bit. There were also people who asked me some lovely questions! Unfortunately they were signed in as guests so I couldn't answer them right away. Those answers are down at the bottom.

Thanks for your continued support and thanks also to my lovely beta, viscountfrancisbacon.

 **Chapter Warnings** : Umbridge and the Blood Quill.

/

Being taught by Professor Binns had a soporific effect on most students. The ghost's droning voice and dry diction worked about as well as any given Dreamless Sleep potion during class, in Ron's experience.

However, Elric appeared to be immune.

When Ron looked over to where the guy was sitting, instead of bland incomprehension, Elric was sitting ramrod-straight, pen clutched in his left hand. Unlike Hermione, the only other person who had managed to stay awake for the entirety of History of Magic, he wasn't taking any notes. He seemed to be just staring at Binns.

Ron wished that Elric had a decent haircut, because he couldn't read the guy's expression past his bangs. It was odd, he thought as Binns' voice continued to drone on, Elric had had an odd reaction to Nearly Headless Nick in the Great Hall too.

As he once again succumbed to the stupor, Ron wondered if Elric had a problem with ghosts.

/

Because Snape vanished his potion, Harry had managed to be the first one out of Potions, and he was surprised to hear Ed running to catch up with him before he had even reached the Great Hall.

"You're out fast," Harry said.

Ed shrugged. "I think that teacher would maybe understand why."

"I doubt it, Snape hates all Gryffindors. Even if you weren't really Sorted, you're still wearing red, and he probably still has it out for you."

"Is that why he took your potion?" Ed asked, pensive gaze occasionally breaking away to glance at the food on the tables in the Great Hall as he filled his plate.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't help that I'm in Gryffindor, but he just hates me, and it seems like him being in the Order won't help any. So if you skipped out on handing your potion in, I think you'll be losing your marks from today too." Ed's potion hadn't been emitting the same silvery steam as Hermione's, but it had been the right color, and hadn't been giving off funny smells or anything.

"Well then, is good I am not here for marks," Ed remarked before digging in to lunch.

When Harry was about half way through his plate, Ed took a hearty swig of pumpkin juice before turning to him.

"Almost forgot, I will not go to your next class, Divination," he informed Harry. "Is… not something I wish to study. And I was promised free time for this."

"Oh, alright," Harry said after a swig of his own. "What do you plan to do instead?"

"I have research notes from prominent alchemist to decode. Was barely able to get them before all this. So much… business arranging coming here."

Harry had nothing to say to that. While he had been glad of Ed's company back at Privet Drive, it was hard to ignore how out of place he seemed in Hogwarts. He hovered behind the group while Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked shoulder to shoulder between classes, and he never really had anything to add in their conversations, so when Ed did talk, it just reminded Harry that he was there as a bodyguard. And comments like that further reminded Harry with a sinking feeling that Ed didn't want to be bodyguarding him in the first place.

That feeling pulled at Harry, made him want to just tell Ed to go home if that's what he wanted so much. He took another bite of lunch instead, and waited for Ron and Hermione to catch up.

/

Ron wasn't particularly hopeful about Defense Against the Dark Arts. The rest of the day hadn't gone well at all, and new Dark Arts professors were always a gamble. The odds didn't look very good for Umbridge working out to being a decent professor.

When she told the class "wands away" and had them reading, Ron called it right then and there. This year was going to be a bad year for this class.

The feeling grew when he realized that Hermione hadn't even opened her own book. Instead of reading, Hermione started questioning the teacher. Ron quietly pinched his leg to make sure he wasn't in some surreal dream. Nothing changed, as far as he could see. Then again, dreams always seemed totally real until he woke up…

Harry and Dean joined Hermione in the row against Umbridge, and slowly the whole class was drawn in. If they weren't trying to get a comment in, they were watching the whole thing happen. Even Elric, Ron noted.

The guy who was supposed to be Harry's bodyguard was watching the whole thing with this strange unreadable expression. Even when Harry actually used the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, all he did was this little twitch, eyes darting around so he could see the rest of the class react. Umbridge even gave Harry detention after calling him a liar, and still all he did was watch.

"Tomorrow evening. Five o' clock. My office," Umbridge said. "I repeat, _this is a lie_. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading."

With every word Umbridge spoke, Ron could feel the blood leave his face and a tight knot of anger form in his chest. It wasn't just that this woman was swanning in to say that everything Harry had been through was a "fib", it was that Elric seemed fine with what she was saying.

He was sitting there, with this strangely smug look on his face, nodding along with every hateful syllable. It was baffling. Elric was here in Hogwarts because of You-Know-Who! How could he be agreeing with anyone saying that there wasn't any danger in the world?

Umbridge sat, and Harry stood. "Cedric Diggory was murdered," he said. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

That wiped the smug look off Elric's face, at least. Umbridge called Harry up to her desk, and while she sat and scratched out a note, it looked like Elric was finally taking this seriously.

After Harry left to go see Professor McGonagall, slamming the door behind him, the class sat in the fading echo. Ron hoped that McGonagall would go easy on Harry. He didn't deserve this, any of this, really.

"Well now!" Umbridge twittered, like she hadn't just tried to pretend a student hadn't been murdered. "All that unpleasantness is over with. Hopefully you all can learn from Mr. Potter's mistakes, hmm? I would hate to have to be so unfriendly with any of you so early in the year!"

Nobody had anything to say to that. Hermione was glaring at her copy of 'Basics for Beginners'. Dean Thomas was looking very intently at the edge of his desk, and Parvati was folding an extra piece of parchment in half over and over again. Ron could only stare at Umbridge. At how she smiled, and twittered, and seemed to actually believe that having them read a book was a better way to teach than letting them actually try casting spells.

An eternity later, the bell rang. There was a stampede for the door, but over the hubbub Umbridge called, "Oh, Mr. Elric! Before you leave, I would like a word, please!"

Ron shot Hermione a look. She tugged him out of the classroom, and then to one side of the door, in time to hear what Elric and Umbridge were saying.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?"

"Now, Mr. Elric, I know that you're quite far away from home, here at Hogwarts! I want you to feel comfortable, of course, but we really must know where you are in understanding magic! From your records, it seems you haven't attended school in years. Is this true?"

"Yes, it is."

Umbridge hummed. "And, of course, we must be sure of your ability to understand… to speak English, you know."

A quill scratched across parchment.

"Yes, I think… come with Mr. Potter tomorrow evening. He can show you to my office."

"Professor Umbridge," Elric said. Ron frowned. Was his accent thicker than normal?

Umbridge interrupted whatever Elric was going to say. "Oh, don't worry. You aren't in trouble. It's not detention. It's just a meeting between… friends. Wouldn't you say?"

"… Yes, Professor Umbridge."

/

Hermione managed to convince Ron that demanding answers from Edward in the halls wasn't quite the right place, or even the right time. And once they had caught up to Harry in their next class it was clear that his meeting with McGonagall hadn't gone horribly, but he still wasn't in a better mood for it. He was so angry his knife and fork clattered against his plate. He tossed them aside as Hermione explained what had happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, how Dumbledore hadn't really clarified anything.

Now they were in a more comfortable setting, in the chairs in front of the fire, Hermione wanted to simply let go of what had happened today. Crookshanks was curled in her lap, purring so loudly she could feel it in her kneecaps, but her mind kept spinning.

"Oh, how could Dumbledore let this happen?" she cried, glaring at the fire.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. His head was propped on one hand, and he looked pale in the stark light cast by the fireplace.

"I don't understand how Dumbledore could let Umbridge teach us! In our O.W.L. year, too!"

"Well, it's not just about teaching, is it?" Ron asked. He lifted his head and looked right at Edward as he spoke. "It's about spying, too."

"Of course," Edward said, meeting Ron's eyes. "It is all a balance, you know?"

"Don't," Harry said as Ron opened his mouth to reply. "Don't let's start fighting again."

Ron closed his mouth, but opened it again. "Harry," he said, "You should know that Elric is going with you tonight."

"What?"

Edward shrugged. "Umbridge has her reasons. Stupid, obvious reasons. She thinks I will get lost, so maybe you show me the way tonight."

"Do you have detention?"

"No, I think she wants… She said she wanted to see if I understood English."

Harry sighed. "Whatever that means." He straightened up, and reached for his bag. "I think I'd have a better chance understanding whatever Snape is going on about in potions today."

Hermione shared a look with Ron. Harry was tired, and Hermione knew that continuing the conversation would just wear on his nerves, so she reached for her own parchment. Ron, thankfully, understood and pulled out his books as well.

Crookshanks, dislodged in all the shuffling, moved from Hermione's lap and settled on Edward's. He looked startled – his hands shooting up to shoulder level as if scalded – that Hermione just had to laugh.

"Don't laugh," he said as Harry and Ron joined in. "I am trapped now."

That only made the scene funnier as Crookshanks started to knead the robes over Edward's left knee. He didn't seem to notice, and continued pouting about being held captive by a cat. It wasn't the most productive study session she had ever had, but after the worst first day back at Hogwarts ever, it was worth it.

The next day, though, Hermione regretted not working harder when both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall stressed how important O.W.L.s were. She had been so wracked with regret that she hadn't been able to focus at all on how Edward dealt with the summoning charm review. Fortunately, by the time Professor McGonagall had set out instructions for today's classwork, Hermione realized what an opportunity she had.

It seemed that she wasn't the only one who realized that studying Transfiguration with an alchemist in the room was something exciting, for McGonagall was standing close to Edward's desk, watching him as he sat there, staring at the snail that was slowly crawling towards his wand. Instead of practicing, as instructed, Edward was flipping through their transfiguration text.

After a few minutes of this, McGonagall approached them. "Is something amiss, Mr. Elric?"

"I think," Edward said after glaring at the chapter on Vanishing and Conjuring. "I cannot do this."

"Oh?" Professor McGonagall didn't sound disbelieving – as she sometimes did when a student was having a hard day in class – or upset, only curious. "Why would that be?"

Edward jabbed a finger at the illustration of the runic depiction of The Principles of Transformation of Presence. "Magic and alchemy have different understandings. Alchemy cannot disappear a thing. There is the law of mass. Magic is temporary, works with different understanding of mass and energy. I have no practice with this understanding. Any magic I do will be… beginner here. This spell is not so easy for beginner, so I cannot do it."

During this explanation, McGonagall was nodding along. When Edward finished, she said, "I see. Perfectly understandable, Mr. Elric. However, I do not like to think of you wasting your time in this class. We will talk later about what you can work on. For now, I think your homework for today will be a short outline of the basic differences between Transfiguration and alchemy in the area of Vanishing Spells."

Edward nodded, scooping up the snail. Hermione watched as he crossed the room to put it back in the terrarium. As he dropped the little creature back in its home, a flash of white cloth made Hermione realize that Edward was still wearing gloves, which seemed odd. Surely washing one's hands clean of snail slime was easier than washing cloth.

He had been wearing gloves all summer, Hermione realized, watching Edward wipe his hand on his robes. No one had asked him about it yet. Perhaps it was something to do with being an alchemist? After all, wizards had enough practices that seemed strange on the surface for anyone who hadn't studied magic, and Hermione had never met any other alchemist.

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall's voice startled Hermione from her musings. "I appreciate that you tend to grasp new spells rather quickly, but I would rather you finish your work before you take your free time."

Blushing, Hermione turned back to her own snail while Ron giggled next to her, his own snail still blithely visible. A swish of her wand, and the same could not be said of her snail. Ron stopped laughing.

/

The most useful thing Ed learned during the latter half of the day was that public proclamations of loyalty were still a thing in Britain. Between lunch and dinner, several people came up to Harry to do just that. Sure, they didn't literally pledge anything, but Ed couldn't really think of any other reason these kids were approaching Harry to loudly believe in him. Though the last one did also have to talk to him about sports, so there was that.

Ed was not being paid to care about Harry's sports career.

After dinner, unfortunately, Ed had duties he _was_ being paid for. He followed Harry to the third floor where Umbridge's office was. He was not looking forward to this part of the job.

"Come in!" Umbridge twittered, and Ed schooled his face into a blank neutrality he certainly wasn't feeling, especially once he truly saw the room. "Pink," "lace," and "explosions" didn't usually fit together, but Ed found it hard to describe the office without all three of those words. There was just… so much. So much of it. And it was somehow _aggressive_ in its pinkness and laciness.

So far, the décor at Hogwarts had been pretty good. The stone gargoyles were awesome, and the high arches danced with cool shadows cast by the flickering torches. This room was the complete opposite of everything happening in the rest of the castle, and Ed hated it.

He had never hated decorating before. It was a new feeling.

Harry was asking Umbridge something about rescheduling his detentions, but Ed couldn't pay attention over his new-found resolve to utterly destroy every single piece of lace in this room before the year was out. He would burn it. Burn it to the ground and laugh-

"Ah-HEM! Mr. Elric!"

Umbridge was staring at him, one thin eyebrow raised.

"Ah ha, just looking," Ed managed to say as a weak excuse. He waved a hand at the pink. And the lace.

"I see! Yes, there is something wonderful about British craftsmanship, isn't there?" she preened like there was anything to be proud of in this room.

"There is _something_ , yes."

Harry was sitting off in one corner, and Ed could practically feel his horrified gaze as he picked up the only thing that seemed to be free of pink, lace, or kittens – a large black quill.

Umbridge smiled at Harry, then turned to face Ed. Her eyes were still on Harry, though. "Mr. Elric, do go through to the other room. I believe Mr. Potter has a question, and then I will be right with you." Her smile was the widest Ed had ever seen it.

He hurried through to the other room. It seemed to be more of a sitting room, since there were more chairs and no desk, but everything was just as pink and lacy. The sooner he could be done with this meeting, the better. Umbridge came through the door several moments later, and tapped it with her wand. It glowed blue briefly, and she said, "There, now Mr. Potter won't be able to hear anything he isn't supposed to."

Ed had nothing to say to that, really. He watched as she waved her wand and produced a few parchments from the air. She laid them on the table before him.

"Now, Mr. Elric, we both know that the other day was a little ruse for the most part, but I do think it would be to our advantage – to make sure there are no… miscommunications… as it were – if we were to make sure that your language skills were really up to snuff!" The ugly rings on her hand rattled against the table as Umbridge tapped the parchment. "Why don't we sit down and figure a few things out, hmm?"

Ed scanned the pages that sat on the table before him. Then he read through them again. A third pass over them, and he was sure they weren't coded.

'Fill in the correct word to complete the sentence.' The first line of the first page read. It was a damn language test. This woman was giving him a test on his English skills. Instead of spending time actually discussing strategy, it seemed that they were going to do _this_ instead.

Only his firm grip on his poker face kept Ed from doing more than sighing at this. He comforted himself with the thought of telling Mustang just how incompetent his Ministry contact was.

"What's the matter, dear?" Umbridge asked, louder and more slowly than she usually talked. "Are you having trouble?"

"No, Professor Umbridge. I just need something to write with. I do not think this will take long."

It didn't take too long, by Ed's standards. He had rushed through the stupid test, and that meant that his writing was sloppier than usual. Umbridge made a face at it, but Ed would like to see her try and take a test with her non-dominant hand.

Sloppy though his handwriting might have been, it was still legible enough for Umbridge to read through the test quickly enough. "Well then! It seems you've been well prepared for this little assignment," she said, putting the parchments down, in what Ed hoped symbolized an end to this kind of red tape bullshit.

"Yes, the Colonel does make sure everyone is prepared," Ed said, and didn't add 'not that your half-assed test would show otherwise'.

"Naturally, and it's important to trust that government agents are doing their best. And, of course, we must trust the government is doing its best." Umbridge waved her wand, and a tea set flew over. Umbridge continued talking as the pink tea pot poured tea into pink cups with moving pictures of kittens on them. "And we must help by making sure that no unfortunate destabilizing forces try to make too much noise, mustn't we?"

Ed wondered if Umbridge was being vague on purpose, or if she really did just like talking around problems to make her world seem like pure flowers and sunshine. And pink kittens. "Of course. And I am here to help to keep forces stable, yes?"

"To keep _the_ forces stable, yes," Umbridge smiled as she corrected his grammar, "If you can help steer Mr. Potter and his friends into a more stable place, that, of course, would be best. However, if you can't… well, I do believe that the Ministry would truly appreciate Amestris's help in this little matter."

"Amestris government is always a favor of stable," Ed replied, dropping the article and the possessive just to watch Umbridge twitch. "Yes, Amestris would be glad to help in this interest."

/

Harry didn't know how long he had been writing when Ed stepped out of the room he and Umbridge had been talking in. His hand was stinging, and a drop of blood had slid down his wrist as Umbridge followed Ed, thanking him for "a lovely talk".

Ed thanked her, but gave Harry only a short wave as he left.

Another drop of blood slid down Harry's wrist.

Umbridge walked over, her bulging eyes looking over his bloody lines. She tutted. "It looks like you'll have to keep writing. I don't think the message has even begun to sink in just yet."

It was past midnight before she let him leave.

The next morning, Ed wasn't in his bed. Harry had been too wrung out to really think about anything but getting to bed and making sure this day was OVER last night, but surely Umbridge had let Ed leave, right? He remembered something like that happening, he was sure of it.

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, noticing where Harry was looking. "How did your detention with Umbridge go?"

"She- she gave me lines," Harry said. He wasn't sure how to describe what had happened last night, and wasn't about to try with the other boys still in the room. "Why?"

"Because Ed came back, fell onto one of the sofas, and screamed into a pillow for almost an hour. I think he passed out," Ron said, pulling on his robe. "I was gonna get him before I went to bed but I, er, forgot."

When they got downstairs, Ed was indeed still face down on one of the lush couches in front of the fire. His one visible hand was still clenched in a fist. Hermione was standing over him, hands on her hips. She looked up as the boys approached.

"Ron, I thought you weren't going to let him stay like this."

"I forgot," Ron said, ears turning red.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and shook Ed awake.

He jerked up from the pillow like a man surfacing from deep underwater. He yelled something in Amestrian that ended with the only two words Harry understood, "Cooking book!"

Ed looked up at where they were standing.

They looked back down at him.

"What time?"

"It's the next morning, mate," Ron said.

Harry didn't understand Ed's next bit of Amestrian either, but it sounded like a string of curses.

"You're dressed at least. Come on, or we won't have time for breakfast before class." Hermione started walking towards the portrait hole.

/

The broom Mum had bought Ron wasn't anywhere near as good as Harry's Firebolt, he knew, but it certainly did its job. Sometimes Fred and George talked about how practicing on the old beat up family brooms helped them handle the newer models. Ron hadn't really believed them until he had gotten his own Cleansweep. There was a smoothness to the acceleration of this broom that he barely needed to even think about to get, and managing turns were no longer a hit-or-miss proposition. He hoped that this would help keep him at least in the running during the Keeper tryouts.

Harry getting detention the first week of classes was terrible, and Ron hated that his friend was trapped writing lines with the newest and worst Defense teacher, but there was a silver lining. The guilt gnawed at Ron, but if Harry were to watch his practices it would just add more pressure. He'd seen his friend fly at matches, and even during that first flying lesson in first year Harry was obviously a natural on a broom.

Tonight's practice had gone well, at least. He was finally feeling like he might have an actual shot at the Keeper's spot. A quick shower and then bed would be excellent, and if he could keep Fred and George out of his business for just a few days more he wouldn't have to worry about hiding his Cleansweep Eleven on his way too and from practices.

At the sound of footsteps, Ron darted behind one of the statues at the top of a staircase. He listened, trying to discern if it was one set, or two. It sounded like one, but the twins had this trick of walking perfectly in synch with each other when they wanted…

He yelped when Harry just about ran into him. Ron wasn't thrilled about explaining what he was doing, but telling his best friend about his Keeper aspirations was miles better than telling the twins.

Then he saw Harry's hand.

 _'_ _I must not tell lies_ _'_ was carved into Harry's hand, in what looked like his own handwriting. Droplets of blood were drying into scabs along the letters.

"I thought you said she was giving you lines," Ron said. It came out in a harsh whisper as he tried to keep his voice even.

"I mean, it _is_ lines, it's just… more." Harry stumbled through an explanation of what Umbridge was forcing him to do.

Ron saw red. "That – that's sick! She's sick! Go to McGonagall or something!"

"No. I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me."

Ron wanted to scream. Harry was amazingly self-sufficient at times, and he had managed to do amazing things all by himself, but sometimes it scared Ron how little Harry actually looked for help. "GOT TO YOU? You can't let her get away with this!"

Harry took a breath to say something, but Ron interrupted him.

"Or tell Elric! This is exactly what he's here for, isn't it?"

"He's not here to keep me from doing detention," Harry argued.

"This isn't just DETENTION," Ron hissed as they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Instead of answering, Harry gave the password and climbed into the common room. Ron followed him as he headed towards the fire, where Hermione had conveniently spread her books across the entire couch so that no one else could sit there. She looked up as they approached, but her smile faded as she saw the look on Ron's face.

"What is it?" she asked, moving her various books and papers so they could sit. She gave Ron's Cleansweep a long stare before flicking her eyes up to Ron as he tucked it along the bottom of the couch, to keep it inconspicuous.

Ron rather wanted to go upstairs to the boys' room and put it away, but Harry's hand was still oozing blood, and he was still angry.

"It's nothing," Harry grumbled.

That sounded like something Hermione should have an opinion on. Ron grabbed Harry's hand and held it up for her inspection as he asked, "D'you think a bodyguard is supposed to stop things like this?"

"Ron!" Harry tried to pull away, but he managed to escape Ron's grasp only for Hermione to catch his hand.

"This needs murtlap essence to help with the scarring," she murmured, looking pale. "Harry, I thought you said Umbridge was just giving you lines?"

Finally, Harry managed to reclaim his hand. He stumbled through the explanation of that horrid quill again, and Hermione frowned. Her eyebrows got that little crease between them that appeared when she was thinking.

"That quill sounds like it should have been banned under the Forbidden Dark Objects ruling of 1963. She certainly shouldn't have it in Hogwarts! Or be using it on you!" Hermione exclaimed. "Harry, you need to tell Dumbledore about this."

"I don't want to bother him with this," Harry insisted. "You aren't even sure it's actually illegal."

"You should at least tell Edward," Hermione said.

Ron bit his lip as a thought struck him. "What if Elric already knows?" he asked.

"What?"

"Well, he was there the night of Harry's first detention, right Harry?"

"Yeah, Umbridge made him come talk to her."

"And you were using the quill that night, right?"

"What are you saying, Ron?" Hermione interjected. "Dumbledore and the –" she paused, and lowered her voice to say, "The Order –" before continuing on in a normal tone, "were the ones who brought Edward here in the first place. Surely we can trust Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore was the one who brought in Lockheart, and the fake Moody too," Ron pointed out. "And hell, maybe it's just that Elric doesn't realize – I mean, who knows what they do where he's from."

"He is in the military," Harry said, with a far-off stare. Ron wasn't sure if he had even meant to say that out loud.

Ron leaned forward. Hermione and Harry copied him. "D'you know," he whispered, "Elric hasn't taken off his gloves for bed since he got here. Not once."

"Are you saying that he's got writing scars on his hands or something?" Harry's eyebrows were well above the rims of his glasses.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald," Hermione hissed. "Amestris is a country largely populated by alchemists. They wouldn't be able to create something like that enchantment."

Ron shrugged. "I don't know what alchemists are supposed to be able to do, but that's part of the problem, isn't it? We don't know really anything about Elric."

"You know, you can always ask," a familiar accented voice said. Edward Elric stood there, arms full of books, smirking down at them. "Maybe we can do a questions trade, yes? That would be equal, I think."

/

AN: First off: A lot of people are really eager to have an automail reveal! That's always exciting~ The question though, and I keep going back and forth on this myself, is should I go with the melodramatic reveal, or the more reasonable, sensible reveal (which is honestly more likely from what I learned from my research)?

If I DON'T go with the dramatic reveal, then I still want to do a one-shot off-shoot AU kind of thing, because I learned too much about deep vein thrombosis to NOT put it to use.

Now to the questions!

1: What does "Akatsiya" mean? I should have included this in the last chapter, but it means "acacia" apparently? The real reason Brown Akatsiya is Named That is because Hawkeye follows the same naming conventions Arikawa herself uses- that is, Black Hayete is named after a military vehicle like the rest of Team Mustang. The Akatsiya is an old Russian tank that I liked the name of, so I used it.

2: Ed vs the Boggart? Not an actual question but, I told one of my friends what I think Ed's boggart would be and she said "Holy shit". Should I do another AU oneshot thing?

3: FMA takes place in 1914, HP in the '90s. How are you managing that? I kind of hand waved it at the beginning of this, but I'll explain a little more here. In this story Amestris (and Xing, actually) are semi-magical states that function kind of like Hogsmead. They're not exactly impossible to find for muggles, but there's just hmmm something? Hmmmm that makes people forget that Amestris exists unless they're Very Much In The Know.

Because in this story alchemy and magic are branches of the same tree, the developments that Amestris (and Xing) have been able to make in nonmagical areas rush ahead in some places (i.e. automail) but are behind in others (cars, government). So technically Amestris is ALSO in the 90s, but because they have alchemy (magic) their technological development is kind of patchwork. Kind of like wizarding Britain!

4: Brotherhood or 2003, and has Huges died? Brotherhood, or more accurately manga, and so far, Ed knows that Maes is still alive.

As always, you can come yell about Harry Potter, Fullmetal Alchemist, this story, or anything else at buffpidgey at tumblr!


	9. Chapter 9

I LIIIIIVVVEEE! Despite my computer's attempts to the contrary, this fic continues! And thanks to surprising foresight from past me, I didn't even really lose all that much (Don't worry, I lost nothing to do with this fic). That plus how spring is always a very busy time for my family means that I was MIA for a while there. But, I AM back, and with a Serious Outline for the rest of how this fic will go!

As much as we all would love it if I wrote 200k more about Ed's adventures in Hogwarts, that's not going to happen, cuz that's a recipe for me abandoning this and just dropping off the face of the earth for forever. Instead, I've got a plan for about 7 or so more chapters. After that, I have a few other projects that I want to work on, plus some AU one shots of this 'verse. (I have never seen a fic where Ling and Lan Fan show up at Hogwarts which is an actual criminal crime that I feel I must rectify.)

As always, more notes at the bottom of this chapter, including the results of the "poll" from last chapter, and my deepest thanks to my beta vis!

 **Chapter Warnings:** Umbridge

/

There was something kind of sad about finding Harry and his friends desperately trying to have a secret conversation in the visual center of the entire common room. Even from the portrait hole, Ed had been able to tell that the three were having an intense conversation about something they didn't want anyone else to listen in on. Naturally he had simply strolled over to them and was able to easily catch the tail end of a hushed conversation about how little they knew about him.

Which… to be fair, they didn't really know much about him at all. Of course, it wasn't his fault. He hadn't known them all that long, and it wasn't like there had been time for any really deep heart to heart conversations. Not that that was something he particularly wanted.

But, talking about what alchemy could do compared to what magic could do? That would be something he'd happily discuss.

"So, what do you think alchemy cannot make?" Ed asked the gaping trio on the couches before him.

The question startled them out of their shock. Hermione shook herself a bit before answering. "Is there… could an alchemist create a quill that, when writing, used blood as ink and could carve what it was writing on the writer's hand?"

"A quill that could what?" Since he had arrived in England, Ed's English had vastly improved, but Hermione had spoken quickly, and prepositions and time were tricky. "What is it writing? Blood?"

Harry shifted, tugging at one of his sleeves and looking away. Hermione shot him a glance.

"A quill that uses your blood as ink, and it carves the words right into your hand," Ron spat, before Hermione could speak again. "Like Dark magic, except with alchemy. You wouldn't have any ideas about that sort of thing, would you?"

Dark magic, but for alchemy? Ed's breath stuttered. It had been hard to figure out exactly what designated certain aspects of magic as "Dark", but it had been easy to see that most, if not all, Dark magic was uncomfortably recognizable as a form of human transmutation. And now the kids were asking after it?

"Why do you want to know?" He would feel more comfortable discussing the taboo if-

Harry's hand was thrust into the flickering light. Something was scrawled on his hand, sketchy and hard to read, being upside down and in bad light. "Because this!" Ron said, still glaring. Harry tried to reclaim his hand, but Ron wouldn't let him.

Ed realized that it wasn't the words that Ron wanted him to see, but how the words had been written. They were carved into Harry's hand. He dropped his books on the end of the couch, and grabbed Harry's hand with his flesh one. The words were in Harry's own handwriting. "What is this? How?"

"Something called a Blood Quill, I think," Hermione said. "It's supposed to be illegal. It certainly shouldn't be used for detentions in a school!"

This time when Harry tried to free his hand, Ed let him. "So?" he muttered, rubbing at the scabs. "If she's a Ministry official, I doubt the Ministry would do anything."

"No, that's _supposed_ to be Ed's job," Ron snapped, before turning to face Ed. "Right? You're supposed to keep Harry from getting hurt!"

"Hush, Ronald!" Hermione hissed. "That's supposed to be secret!"

Ed groaned. "Is hard to be secret when you talk in middle of the room."

"W-well, it's not like we can go to the library after curfew!" Hermione said. "In any case, what to you think we should do about this? Go to McGonagall? Or should we try to talk to Professor Dumbledore right away?"

They were both options that, though he had been here less than a week, Ed knew would stop Umbridge from doing this one specific thing. Unfortunately, people like her tended to have all kinds of different ways to make peoples' lives miserable. She was from the Ministry too, and if Ed had to guess, he would say that she knew enough loopholes to make sure everything she did was at least technically legal. Or she knew the right palms to grease to get people to look the other way.

In his journeys, Ed had seen plenty of military officials like Umbridge; people who went out of their way to cause harm. Sometimes they were motivated by spite, sometimes they were motivated by greed. Either way, they always made Ed's skin crawl with the way they sat so comfortably, assured that they would never be stopped.

He generally had a good day when he found an excuse to take one of them out. His previous meeting with Umbridge had had him daydreaming about how he might orchestrate her downfall. Seeing Harry's hand had set the resolve building in Ed's chest firmly in place.

After all, he had to do _something_ while he was stuck here.

Ed shifted some of Hermione's books, freeing up a spot to sit. "I think," he said slowly, "I would talk to Professor McGonagall. She is in charge of you here, yes?"

"She is the Head of Gryffindor House, yes," Harry said. "But what can she do?"

"If Hermione is right, she can get rid of illegal quill maybe. No more cuts on hand is good thing."

"I don't want to let her know she's getting to me." Harry was glaring into the fire again, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Ed raised an eyebrow. "You think you will be only one she gets to?"

Hermione gasped, and Harry's gaze jerked away from the fire as he gaped at Ed.

Ron leaned forward. "You don't think she'll do this to other people, do you?"

"Why not?"

"Well, she obviously hates Harry..." Ron trailed off. 'So she would be more willing to torture him' was left unsaid.

Hermione stopped staring at Ed in order to glare at her friend. "Ron!"

"It's true!" Ron objected as Hermione swatted his arm.

A flicker of amusement flashed across Harry's face. Ed wondered how often Ron provoked Hermione to lighten the mood like that.

"With… with people like her, is not so much about who all the time." Ed spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. Explaining something like this was much easier when he knew exactly what words he needed to cast what kind of implications. He didn't want to spend the whole night outlining the usual methods people like Umbridge used, but he didn't want to give the kids an entirely wrong impression thanks to whatever double meanings this crazy language might have.

"You're saying that tormenting Harry is just her opening move?" Ron asked. He was frowning, and his fingers tapped and slid in a strange pattern across one of Hermione's books that had landed next to him.

Ed nodded, grateful that at least one of these kids had some idea about strategy. "Yes. Harry is easy beginning. Who knows where she goes next."

"But what would telling on her do?" Harry carefully traced the cuts on his hand. "She'd just keep it up, or she might end up doubling down."

"It might be…" Ron's finger slid diagonally from one side of the book to the other. "If we brought in a pi- someone at her level, that might block her. A bit."

Ed pointed at the kid. "Right. Is at least something."

"And, really Harry, things like Blood Quills are awfully illegal," Hermione added. "She _has_ to get in trouble for that!"

… Or if she didn't, then Ed would have to look up just how illegal Blood Quills were to see what level Umbridge's political sway was on. But that was a conversation he sure as hell wasn't going to have in the middle of the damn common room. At freaking late o'clock. He stood up.

"Yes. So it is agreed, we talk to Professor." He picked up the few texts on alchemy he had been allowed to take outside the library. "But tomorrow. Goodnight."

/

Harry was pulled from sleep by a digging pain in his hand. Somehow, his sheets had been pulling on the cuts, which still hadn't fully healed. Waking up in the middle of the night for some crap reason or another was something Harry wished he wasn't so familiar with, but at least it meant he was perfectly comfortable with the idea of rolling over and ignoring the fading pain until he could fall back asleep.

He was about to do just that, when a sharp gasp cut through the soft snores in the dormitory. Harry's eyes flew back open, though all he could see was the dark, blurry edge of his bed. He laid still, listening and heard a few ragged gasps. Someone was crying, or in pain enough to sound like he was crying.

The sounds were coming from the same side of the room as Ron and Ed, so Harry fumbled for his glasses. As he shuffled closer to the noise, he could tell that it was Ed making it. He resented Ed pushing him to tell McGonagall about Umbridge when he was sure that it would be a waste of time at best, but he didn't want the guy to have some sort of attack in the middle of the night.

"Ed," he hissed, standing outside of the drawn curtains. "Ed, are you alright?"

There was a short sort of a gasp, then a long, shuddering breath. Harry heard the rustle of covers moving about, then Ed's gloved hand parted the curtain.

He looked awful. His long hair was tangled around his shoulders, and the bangs stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. In the gloom, Harry could see Ed's other white gloved hand gripping his leg tightly enough that the fabric bunched dramatically.

"You alright?" Harry repeated. Considering the scene in front of him, he felt it was warranted.

"Yes. Fine. Only… just leg pain. Happens sometimes. Is like… when muscles grab."

When muscles grab? When… "Oh, you mean when muscles seize up? Like, a cramp?"

"Da. Yes. That. I will be fine. Go back to bed." Despite these words, Ed remained where he was.

"Are you sure? We could go see Madam Pomfrey." While Ed did look really bad off, Harry felt he was further justified in this line of questioning because if Ed was going to fuss at him, he could fuss right back. It was for his health, after all.

Finally, Ed closed the curtain. "Yes, I will be fine in morning. Sleep now."

Harry half expected a dramatic THUMP as Ed flopped onto his back, but there was only the slightest _shh shh_ sounds as the covers were pulled around.

"Alright, then," he said aloud, before turning to go back to his own warm covers. Hopefully he could sleep and forget this whole encounter ever happened.

When morning came to reveal Ed had locked himself in the washroom, Harry had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to. While Ed never actually shared the washroom with anyone, ever, even to simply brush his teeth, his usual pattern was to be either first or last, and to get through whatever his routine was in a fairly timely manner. This morning, Ed had been in the washroom long enough for Ron to knock on the door and yell that other people needed to take their turn. Harry wasn't sure Ed heard him over the loud _hiss_ of running water.

When he finally emerged, he was still bright red from the hot water of his shower, and he almost seemed to be limping as he crossed the room to throw his sleeping clothes into his trunk.

Seamus, who was jumping at the chance to use the washroom, knocked into Ed as he crossed the dorm. Ed's knees buckled and knocked into the the trunk with a sharp rattling CLUNK.

"Oi!" Ron snapped at Seamus's retreating back. "He took a long time, but there's no cause for that."

Neville edged over to Ed, who was still hadn't stood up. He was hunched over his trunk, arms braced on the lid.

"Are you alright?" Neville asked. His hand hovered over Ed's bent back, reaching out but not quite touching.

"Yes, yes, fine," Ed said, waving a hand. He stood up, brushing past Neville's outstretched arm. "No worries."

"You sure?" Harry asked. "You said your leg was troubling you. Seamus probably didn't help."

Ed scowled at him. "Is fine. Nothing food will not fix." He stormed out of the room. He was definitely limping now.

Which was fine with Harry. If Ed was going to be angry about someone just wanting to help him, Harry thought, he could be angry about it on his own, bodyguard or not.

/

By the time he had gotten to the Great Hall, Ed had managed to get his limp under control. His leg still ached, even though it wasn't there, but the pain was manageable. Ignorable. He grabbed a stack of pancakes and tried to remember when the last time he had done his physical therapy exercises was.

He had done some of them while in Grimmauld Place, but not in anything anyone would call a "routine", and he hadn't even tried while he was at the Dursleys.

Hell. More than six weeks since he'd gotten regular exercise. No wonder his leg was killing him. At least his arm wasn't joining in. Small mercies.

Winry was still going to kill him if she found out. The only reason she didn't add a lecture on physical fitness to her repertoire of reasons he was doing 'having automail wrong' was because she knew he got plenty of exercise in his travels. And if he didn't, he could spar with Al.

But now Al wasn't here, and these wizards weren't exactly going out of the way to encourage anyone to really exercise.

Ed wanted to be left to his pancakes in peace, but this morning continued to be utterly disappointing, because there was someone standing behind him. He could tell.

"You're Elric, aren't you?" whoever it was said. Ed turned to see a boy with pale, almost white, hair that he vaguely remembered from potions class.

He swallowed before answering, because it seemed that this kid didn't have the manners to wait until someone was done with breakfast before starting a conversation. "Yes. Who are you?"

"Draco Malfoy," Draco Malfoy said, like he expected Ed to know or even care. "It's a shame you got lumped in with the Gryffindors. Slytherin is where the real Hogwarts experience is."

"Really?" Ed wanted to get back to his pancakes, but his briefing had mentioned that Slytherin was considered a recruiting ground for the terrorist group. If this kid was offering to give him information, breakfast could wait.

"Of course! All the best wizards and witches come from Slytherin, since we're a more… discerning House. Quality in, quality out, you know."

Ed certainly knew. This had all been in his briefing. "I see," was all he said aloud, though.

Malfoy continued, not really seeming quite interested in what Ed was actually saying. "I'm sure I could arrange to have you put in the proper House. My Father is on the Hogwarts board of directors."

The kid blathered on about how well-connected he was, how much Snape listened to him. The way Malfoy talked, it sounded like he and his Father had the entire school wrapped around their little fingers. Ed wasn't sure about that, himself, but ideas like this usually had some kind of basis, he'd found. Some kind of button the kid could push to get a reaction. The question he still had was why this kid was willing to extend any influence he thought he had for someone he hadn't even spoken to before this morning.

"And of course," Malfoy was saying, layering his voice with what he must have thought were friendly tones, "When you're in Slytherin, you'll find that there are people who are genuinely interested in discussing alchemy."

Ahhh, there it was. It sounded like Malfoy wanted to add alchemy to whatever repertoire he was developing – or at least gain the prestige of being seen with the interesting newcomer. Ed wondered if the kid was actually interested in alchemy, or if this was some kind of play to keep an advantage away from a perceived rival.

He almost immediately discarded that thought. Malfoy was talking himself up just as much as he was trying to talk up Slytherin or not-so-subtly insult Gryffindor. He was selling himself just as much as he was selling the ideas of this weird House rivalry thing Hogwarts had going on.

"What're you doing over here, Malfoy?!" Ron's angry voice cut through the morning chatter. Ed swung his head around fast enough that his braid hit his cheek to see the kid in question storming towards them, face completely red.

Malfoy did his best to look unruffled, but Ed was close enough to see the almost-guilty look flash across his face. Even as Ron stormed up to them, he still looked to Ed like someone who had gotten caught somewhere they weren't supposed to be. "Weasley. I'm simply introducing myself to our year's newest addition. Surely you don't think you had the monopoly on him just because he's sleeping in the Gryffindor dorm?"

Ron had taken up most of Ed's attention, but now he could see that Harry and Hermione were close behind him. Harry looked just as angry as Ron did, while Hermione frowned suspiciously over his shoulder.

"This is our side of the Hall, Malfoy. Push off," Ron said, arms folded.

Malfoy raised one almost-invisible eyebrow. "There's no rule that says I can't be here, Weasley."

Ron puffed himself up to answer, then glanced back at Hermione, who winced.

"Technically he's right, Ron," she said, apologetically.

"Even so, you weren't invited," Harry put in. He turned to look at Ed. "Right, Ed?"

Ed shrugged. "I never talk to him before now. So, no."

Harry turned his glare to Malfoy. "So go on, Malfoy. No one wants you here."

"Really, Potter, it's one thing that the Weasel is rude enough to interrupt a conversation, but here I thought the great Harry Potter would have more manners. I was still talking to Mr. Elric here."

"I think maybe conversation is over," Ed said. There wasn't much more to this Malfoy kid than shallow preening and a desire to learn alchemy. He could follow up on that later. For now, he just wanted this annoying quarrel to be over. "Now I must finish my breakfast before class. Maybe later we can talk alchemy."

Malfoy smirked triumphantly before turning with a dramatic flick of his robes to go back to the green table. As soon as he got out of earshot, the others rounded on Ed.

Harry grabbed his shoulder, tugging him away from the pancakes he was _trying_ to finish.

"What did Malfoy want?" Harry demanded, reaching for Ed's sleeve, tugging on it, trying to get him to turn away from his pancakes.

Ed reached up and shoved Harry's hand off his shoulder. The last thing he needed was someone jerking his automail around with his leg acting up.

"To hear his own voice, I think," he said. The others were still standing, but Ed didn't bother to get up.

Harry wasn't about to be so easily deterred. "What was that about alchemy?" he pressed.

"At the end, he said something about talking alchemy," Ed said, turning back to his often-interrupted breakfast. "Maybe is excuse for him to talk, maybe not."

"You're not actually gonna do it, right?" Ron interjected. "You're not actually gonna, like, teach him alchemy or anything right?"

"Why not?"

"Because he's the enemy!" Harry snapped. "His whole family is on Voldemort's side!"

Ed took a bite of his pancakes to buy himself a few moments. There was obviously bad blood between Malfoy and Harry. It had been speculated about in his report, and here was the confirmation. This animosity was understandable, but frustrating. If he had been able to talk with Malfoy freely, the boy might have spilled something. After all, the kid loved the sound of his own voice. But if he were to do that, he risked seriously alienating Harry and his friends. That would make his primary mission hell.

He still wanted to see what he could learn from Malfoy. It was a line he would have to walk carefully. A thin, thin pain in the ass line. Al was so much better at this kind of making-nice.

"I cannot refuse without good reason, because of course Malfoy is not _my_ enemy," Ed said finally, emphasizing his words in a way that the kids would hopefully pick up on. He didn't want to blab openly about his bodyguard status here, in the most crowded place in Hogwarts.

The boys still scowled.

"Of course Malfoy is your enemy," Ron said. "Aren't you supposed to be- OUCH!"

It was hard to see behind the robes, but Ed would have bet money that Hermione had just kicked Ron in the ankle.

"OF _course_ ," she said, more loudly than Ron had, "We mustn't get in the way of inter-House unity. Especially when Edward isn't really even _in_ our House."

"But, Hermione-" Harry started to say, but she cut him off by placing one careful hand on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

She put another hand on Ron's shoulder, and pulled them in. Ed couldn't hear what she was whispering, but he was sure it was 'I'll explain later.' Then she released the boys, and shooed them into their seats while claiming the one right next to Ed.

"So," Hermione said brightly reaching for the tea, "Would you really be willing to teach a little alchemy?"

/

Having people pestering you all through breakfast would be enough to make someone grumpy, Hermione supposed. It certainly would be enough to make Ed grumpy, though that was hardly surprising considering how much he enjoyed his mealtimes.

Despite the bad mood from being interrupted so often, it was easy to get him to open up about alchemy. He really was passionate about it, and often strayed into vocabulary that Hermione was unfamiliar with. She had asked him to _teach_ her alchemy, but Edward had only given her a noncomital response and muttered something about how lessons would be hard to organize.

She doubted that would be much of a challenge for Edward if he put his mind to it, though. He was clearly quite a talented alchemist. She had seen him transmute more than once without even using the circular diagrams and runes that were supposedly essential.

But, despite his talent at alchemy, Hermione had to admit that Edward wasn't here so she could have all her questions about the field answered. He was here to protect Harry, and that was a goal Hermione couldn't disagree with.

She still wanted to learn more.

So after class, she brought her knitting to where Edward was sitting in the common room. He had a thick book on old transfiguration theory in front of him, and pages of notes scattered about. She took a seat next to him, and he looked up.

"Yes?"

Hermione showed him her latest hat-in-progress. "If I teach you to knit, would you teach me some alchemy?" she asked. "Would that be equivalent exchange?"

Edward's head jerked back in surprise. He looked at her, looked at her knitting, then looked back to her again. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I-" he started to say, but stopped. He took a deep breath, then tried again. "Maybe you show me, and I will answer a few questions."

It wasn't the exact deal she wanted, but it was a start. Hermione picked up the needles, and threaded the wool between the fingers of her right hand. She began knitting slowly, slipping the needle into the next stitch, carefully displaying the way she looped the yarn around the needle, and slipping the stitch onto the other needle.

After a few stitches like this, she looked up to see Edward's expression. He wasn't looking at her demonstration, instead, his focus was on his right hand as he slowly opened and closed his fist.

"Edward?"

He started. "Sorry, sorry. Is interesting. I always want to know how it –" he gestured at the knitting in her hand, "- is happen. But. I cannot do this, I think. I can still answer some questions."

"Alright," she said, letting the knitting fall on her lap. "Have you found anything useful in that book?"

Hermione wasn't sure how long they talked, but it was genuinely fascinating to see the differences Edward outlined between magic and alchemy. Sometimes they would get tripped up as Edward tried to explain an alchemical concept that he didn't know the English words for, but it was mostly a great learning experience.

In the middle of an explanation of the flow of energy through the alchemical matrix, Edward looked up at the clock and cut himself off. He muttered something in Amestrian, and then looked back at Hermione, and said, "I am late. There is important thing to take care of."

He stood, shuffling his notes into a haphazard pile. Again he turned and glanced at Hermione, then back at his notes.

"Are you leaving?"

She shook her head. "Would you like me to keep an eye on your belongings?"

"Yes please," he said, shoulders relaxing a fraction before he launched himself across the Common Room and out the portrait hole.

Hermione was about to look through the book Edward had been reading when he shot back through the Common Room and grabbed her shoulder.

"Edward, what-"

"Tell Harry to bring his bag to detention tonight," Edward said. "Very important."

Hermione managed a weak nod and an "Of course," before he was gone once again.

/

Harry had been shocked when he had gotten to Umbridge's office to see Professor McGonagall in the room. She stood out in the sea of pink in her sensible dark robes, unadorned with lace.

"Ah, Potter," she said, giving him a short nod before turning back to Umbridge. "As I was saying, Dolores, I was thinking it would be… instructive to see how a Ministry professional conducted a detention."

Umbridge was a strange color. Most of her face was a pale, washed out shade, but there was a mottled band of pink across her cheeks. "Of course," she still managed to twitter. "But really, on such short notice..."

"Oh, but Dolores," McGonagall said, "From what I hear your classes are generally so smoothly run. When else might I get a chance to observe?"

Harry had never seen someone look so angry about being complimented. He wanted to remember this forever.

"Do you really think it would be… appropriate for you to observe Mr. Potter's detention?" Umbridge asked. Her fingers where white where she grabbed a sheet of parchment. "He is, after all, from your House."

McGonagall smiled. "Your concern does you credit, Dolores, but as Mr. Potter's Head of House it does ultimately fall to me to ensure that he's punished properly. It wouldn't do for any Head of House to get… complacent when meting out punishments."

"Of course, of course," Umbridge said again. Her tiny teeth flashed like she wanted to snarl the words. "Mr. Potter, will, of course, sit down. Won't he?"

Harry took his cue and sat at the desk, placing his bag on the floor. He waited to see if Umbridge would give him the quill tonight.

After Harry had sat there for a few moments, Umbridge snapped. "Well, get out your quill and parchment!" she cried. "You know the lines you are set to do."

There was a moment where he paused, again, elbow-deep in his bag. Had Umbridge really meant it? Maybe Hermione was right, and the quill really was illegal. But Umbridge was a member of the Ministry. Why would she worry about being caught out by McGonagall?

Both Ron and Hermione had said that Dumbledore still had power within the Ministry, even though the Prophet was doing its best to discredit him. Umbridge was probably worried that Deputy Mistress McGonagall would report back to Dumbledore. But that would only make sense if Dumbledore still cared about Harry, which Harry wasn't sure about since Dumbledore had done his best to keep him alone and in the dark since the beginning of summer.

"A-HEM!" Umbridge's fake cough reminded Harry of what he was supposed to be doing. He finished pulling out his quill, ink, and parchment.

He glanced up at Umbridge, who gave him an impatient 'get on with it' gesture, so Harry got to writing.

The back of his hand still stung, the half-healed scabs stinging in sympathy as he wrote 'I must not tell lies' over and over again, but it was the same pain he had felt during the school day when he wrote notes down. It wasn't comparable to actually having the words carved into his hand.

Umbridge settled into working on whatever she did in the evenings. Harry could hear McGonagall taking a seat as well, but he didn't dare look up to see what she was doing. He didn't know how or why she was really here, but he didn't want to do anything to risk getting yet another detention.

After about half a page of lines, he heard a displeased 'tch' sound from where McGonagall was sitting. He still didn't raise his head.

"Is something the matter, Minerva?"

"Oh, no," McGonagall said. Her voice was still in the same breezy tone it had been all night. "I'm simply… disappointed. There are a few books on your shelf that I should have taken a look at ages ago."

"Oh!" For the first time that night, Umbridge didn't sound like the simper in her voice was forced. "Perhaps I could loan you some?"

"It would certainly be _enlightning_ , I'm sure. Though, this seems like a conversation for another time."

The lapsed into silence, and the room was filled once more with the sound of Harry's quill scratching out 'I must not tell lies'.

/

So last time, I asked you guys (and the readers over on AO3) if we should go for a "dramatic" reveal or not, and the consensus seems to be to go with the sensible reveal. The most amusing aspect of this was the way you all interpreted what "dramatic" meant since I have totally different plans than what you all seemed to think...

In any case, I have done way too much research to let it go to waste and NOT use it. I will be absolutely doing little one shots of this crossover and the dramatic reveal will totally be one of them.

I do mean to continue writing this fic, but at the same time I have a lot of other projects that I want to get to. Don't let that scare you though! I honestly have this 'verse plotted out all the way through Deathly Hallows. What can I say, I washed my hair and a LOT of plot fell out...

When I get closer to the end of this fic I might put up another poll about which project I should work on/post first, but that's still a good half dozen chapters away yet.

In the meantime, if you guys have any questions feel free to ask here, OR if you want an immediate response, check out my tumblr (anons welcome!) at BuffPidgey dot tumblr .com


	10. Chapter 10

You guys are lucky I was so productive this last month. My family got a puppy (yellow lab), and since I am still unemployed my job is now to keep her from peeing and/or chewing on everything. She's so cute, but also a hurricane of destruction. But I did get this chapter done, and chapter 11 is being edited and chapter 12 is being beta'd. We'll see how I feel about spacing out this backlog. Once school is out then there will be more people around to keep Rook from biting EVERYTHING, so my writing schedule (and job application schedule (I still don't have a job)) should get back to normal by June.

In any case, do enjoy this chapter!

 **Chapter warnings** : Implied child neglect of canon levels.

/

Harry returned to find the Common Room in a state of Full Fledged Gryffindor Party. Ron ran up to him, looking flushed and a bit winded.

"Harry!" he gasped, grabbing Harry's shoulders. "Harry!"

"That is my name," he said. Ron looked like he was trying to have too many emotions at once, his eyes flicking from Harry's face, then away, then back again. The good mood in the room was catching, and Harry found himself smiling at Ron's enthusiasm.

Ron gave Harry's shoulders a small shake as he yelled, "Harry, I got it! I'm keeper!"

"Ron, that's brilliant!"

"I know!" Ron grinned. "I can't believe it!" He gave Harry another little shake, and Harry wondered if Ron knew he was even doing that.

Suddenly, the grin fell off Ron's face. "Harry," he hissed, his volume dropping like his grin, "how did it go– with the detention, I mean."

Harry held up his un-bloodied hand. Ron grabbed it, pulling the hand closer to examine it in the flickering hubbub of the ongoing party, still looking worried. "McGonagall was there for some reason. Umbridge just had me do normal lines tonight."

Finally, Ron looked relieved. "Now you just need to keep from getting detention again."

"Ha, yeah."

"Mate, you know she'll try to get a rise out of you again," Ron said. He locked eyes with Harry. "You said before you didn't want her to think she's getting to you. Well, don't let her get to you again."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. Umbridge hadn't been able to do what she had wanted, not with someone else watching.

Ron shook Harry's hand in front of his own face. "She's going to try and rile you up to discredit you in front of all of us."

Oh. That was a bit different than what had been thinking. That made sense too. Harry wasn't sure how much a Ministry official would have in common with the Dursleys anyway.

"Right," he said out loud.

"Go talk to Hermione. She's back from the library." Ron gave him a shove towards the fireplace just before the party reabsorbed him into the celebration.

Hermione was, indeed, back from the library, though she didn't have any books with her. Instead, she had a lumpy shape of wool strung on way too many needles. She also appeared to be asleep, but she jerked awake when he sat down next to her.

"Oh, Harry! Welcome back… good about Ron, isn't it?" she said through a yawn. "I've been staying up late making hats." She held up the wooly shape.

Harry examined it, trying to see where the 'hat' was supposed to be between the yarn and all the pointy needles. He couldn't see it, but nodded anyway.

"I showed Edward how to knit, but he said he couldn't help. Maybe you could…?" she trailed off in another yawn.

"Er, maybe not now, Hermione," he said. "Actually, I think something might be going on..." He explained how his scar had hurt when Umbridge touched his arm after the end of his detention. When he finished his story, Hermione looked a lot less sleepy.

"You should tell Dumbledore," she said.

"I don't want to bother him," Harry said, remembering how Dumbledore hadn't even looked at him during his trial.

"Then you should tell Edward!" Hermione said, leaning forward, the many needles dangerously close to jabbing her.

Harry vaguely wondered if Hermione had ever stabbed herself with those. "What could Ed do about it?" he asked instead.

"It would alert him, especially if Umbridge really is under You-Know-Who's control like you think she might be!" When Harry didn't respond right away, Hermione deflated. "You should tell _someone_ about this, Harry."

"I guess I could write Padfoot," he said at length.

Hermione frowned. "This isn't something you put in a letter."

"I'll be careful," Harry said. He stood up. "I'm going to go. I'll write Padfoot when I finish my homework."

The dorms weren't Harry's first choice for studying or writing, but there _was_ a party going on in the Common Room. It turned out Harry wasn't the only one taking refuge away from the sheer Noise of a Gryffindor party, either.

Ed sat on his bed, looking through letters he hadn't opened at breakfast this morning. More letters were spread out on his blankets. Even upside down, Harry could tell they were all in Amestrian. Some were written in a cramped, blocky hand, some were scrawled across strange black smudges, and some were written in a careful font that Harry could have easily mistaken for something from a special-order precise printer.

He gave Ed a brief nod, which was returned, and set about writing his own letter. Eventually, he settled on:

 _Dear Snuffles,_

 _Hope you're okay, the first week back here's been terrible. I'm really glad it's the weekend._

 _We've got a new Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher. Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge._

 _Hermione says I should talk about it with our new friend, but we don't know what he's studied._

 _We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon._

 _Please write back quickly._

 _Best,_

 _Harry_

Harry tried to look at what he had written with an outsider's point of view. It seemed obscure enough. He wished he could have been more vague about referring to Ed as "our newest friend", since Ed being his bodyguard was supposed to be secret, but since he hadn't included the reason why Hermione thought he should talk to Ed, or the reason it was an issue in the first place, Harry thought it might be alright.

With that done, Harry set aside his letter to Sirius, and got out his homework.

/

Ron managed to get a spot on a sports team, which somehow meant everyone was yelling very loudly for a very long time. Ed had enjoyed eating the extra food, but there was only so much time he could spend around yelling children – the last time he had been in the middle of this kind of hubbub was when he and Al had been in Youswell. The memory sent a pang of homesickness through Ed's chest.

Suddenly, the screaming seemed louder, and the food less appealing.

He retreated into the quiet of the dorm. This morning, Brown Akatsia had dropped off the fattest envelope Ed had ever seen. The outside was stamped with the official seal of the Amestris military, but Ed had never in his life gotten orders or reports this hefty.

Away from prying eyes in the dorm, Ed opened the envelope to see that, yes, Mustang had kept his word. The official papers were there, sure, but so were letters from Al, and even Winry. She hadn't even bothered to keep the paper clean of motor oil. The heavy, sharp scent diffused through the air as he counted the letters. Underneath it, the lighter smell of Al's armor polish filled the air around him.

Ed rested his head against his headboard, eyes closed, until he could read the letters without burying his head in the papers to try and breathe in the smells of home.

Once that impulse passed and his breath stopped catching in his throat, Ed began sorting the letters first by sender, then by date. Fortunately, Mustang had only written three times – short letters, though the last one at least had a reply to the newest development in the entire… _situation_ that was Umbridge.

 _Fullmetal,_ the letter read _,_

 _Given your handling of situations of equal delicacy in the past, I feel the best course of action here would be to follow your discretion. However, I must remind you that this situation is, indeed, delicate._

 _If what you overheard regarding British laws was true, ensuring that all parties responsible understand the gravity of their actions would be the ideal end result. The course you outlined in your last missive appears more reasonable than I have often seen from you. I do not advise deviation from the plan, however, as the agent on the ground you should use your own judgment._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Col. Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist_

Ed doubted that Umbridge would even bother reading his mail this early in the year, and even if she had, there was no way someone like her would have bothered to learn all the background information she would have needed to understand what Mustang had really said.

It wasn't written in the agreed-upon code that had been set up prior to Ed leaving Amestris, but it was still cryptic enough that anyone who took the time to translate it to English would still need to be aware of the previous letter, which had been in code, and Ed's own mission history to fully understand what Mustang had just given the go-ahead for.

Work issues settled, Ed turned to the letters from Winry. Again, she had sent only three, but that was understandable. Winry was busy with all her automail geekery. It was honestly kind of amazing she had found time to write as many letters as she had. One was dated to when he was staying at the Dursley's house, one was dated around the time of Harry's underage magic trial. The last one was dated from this week; that one had a long line of oil along the top that hooked down into the rest of the letter. Winry had written around it.

 _Ed,_

 _Al says that this week the letters will get there in some kind of decent time, so I'll get this one finished so you can read it!_

 _It's so annoying that you're so far away. It's bad enough knowing you're wandering around when you're IN Amestris. I can't even take a train to yell at you if – WHEN you get in trouble when you're all the way over there!_

 _And I know you will get into trouble, Edward Elric!_

 _Try and make sure you keep yourself in one piece until I can clear my schedule._

 _And don't forget your exercises! Al told me how you forget if he doesn't remind you. School isn't all kinds of adventures like you're used to. You need to get your head out of the books sometimes and do your physical therapy exercises!_

 _Maybe if you can keep uninjured I'll see about figuring out how to get you one of Granny's pies._

 _Don't break my automail!_

 _Winry_

Al's pile of letters was the biggest; he had written one almost every day, and all were written in their personal code – probably the most secure code Ed knew, having spent years working on it. It included references to conversations he and Al had had years ago that had never been written down, and the occasional inside joke.

When Ed had gone off to Britain, Al had gone off to Resembool to stay with Granny and Winry. But Al mentioned in some of his letters that he would be going to visit the Colonel soon, to gain access to alchemical reference texts that weren't kept in any of the branch libraries. He was still been trying to decode Dr. Marcoh's work, but without reference materials it was slow going.

Ed could relate. In his increasingly rare downtime, he was still trying to work on Marcoh's code too, but there were only so many of his own books he had been able to fit in his suitcase. He had been hoping to use the Hogwarts library, but their alchemy section was… lacking.

The rest of Al's letters were filled with notes on other alchemical experiments he was trying and stories from home. Occasionally he would mention some vague rumor that sounded like it could have been a lead on the Philosopher's Stone, but that had only happened twice since Ed had left. Stuck in Resembool, Al wasn't exactly in a busy and info-rich city. Nor was he able to go verify the rumors he _had_ heard. But it was nice for Ed to know that there were still interesting leads to look at when he got back.

The last letter Al had written was actually largely uncoded. It was fairly short, as well. When Ed decoded it, he read:

 _Dear Brother,_

 _I've finally figured out who Harry reminds me of. Or rather, in some of your descriptions of your new charge, I felt that there was a striking familiarity to someone from home. I could never really figure it out, but I think I've finally realized why the way Harry acts has struck such a strong chord in my memories._

 _Do you remember Anya? Her family lived very close to the schoolhouse so she was always either one of the first ones there or really late. I don't know why this memory is so strong, but, I remember going to the market with Mom, and Anya was there with her mother. She tripped on a rock, and started crying. Her mom helped her back up and hugged her._

 _I think that was shortly before her mom died. I can't remember what killed Mrs. Borodin, I was too little; the adults wouldn't really go into details around me. I do remember that Mr. Borodin took it badly, though again, I was too little for details._

 _The next time I saw Anya she was with Mr. Borodin in the market. He was talking with some of the other men, and Anya was running around. It must have been one of the first times she was cheerful after her mother died. Every time I think about that scene, I remember how I was thinking 'she's running around again, finally.'_

 _(This was before… so I was young, and I didn't understand.)_

 _This time, when she fell and started crying, Mr. Borodin didn't even look up from his conversation. I thought that was so weird. The other adults started looking, but Mr. Borodin just kept talking._

 _After that, Anya just seemed to stop crying. Remember how even on the playground at school when that ball bounced into her face so hard she got a nosebleed she still didn't cry? We thought that was so cool and tough of her, back then._

 _Now, I think differently. Humans are so very complicated, but I think maybe Anya got tired of crying without anyone listening. I think Harry might not look for help for a similar reason._

 _Of course I'm not there, so I could very easily be wrong. I might be wrong. I hope I'm wrong, honestly._

 _I don't want to end this letter on such a melancholy note, but I can't think of an elegant way of changing the topic._

 _Oh well, you'll just have to live with such an awkward transition. We're alchemists, not writers, right, Brother?_

 _I hear from the Colonel that some of our previous assumptions about the decorations at Hogwarts are… off. I also hear that the Colonel would like you to stop ending your reports with detailed descriptions of the Hogwarts halls. In fact, he asked me to ask you to stop doing that._

 _So:_

 _Brother, please stop spending two pages talking about the halls of Hogwarts. Please stop including drawings, too. The Colonel never shows them to me._

 _I think he's gotten the message. He's been talking with me about the logistics about the whole thing. Losing access to the Central bookshelves might be an issue if we haven't managed to decode Dr. Marco's notes, but it wouldn't be forever!_

 _Finally, Granny, Winry, Den, and I all send our love!_

 _Al_

/

The next morning, Harry scanned the owls circling about the Great Hall for Hedwig, hoping that Sirius had sent a reply, but there was no familiar flash of white. Instead, a regal looking barn owl landed next to his pumpkin juice. It gently set down an envelope before flying away.

Harry's name was written on the front in a careful, elegant script that looked vaguely familiar. The letter inside bore the same handwriting – though he had a hard time believing it was handwriting.

 _Dear Harry Potter,_

 _I must begin with apology. First, I must apologize for my English. I have been trying to learn, but is hard without practice with someone who knows the language. Books are very helpful, but I have found that it is better learning when you are doing._

 _Second I apologize for what I am writing in this letter. It is very rude to ask for a task without meeting first. I will introduce myself, but still it is not the same._

 _My name is Alphonse Elric. My older brother is Edward Elric. I know you have known him months ago now. I do not know if you like him or if you do not, it can be hard to know my brother. But because he is my brother I am being rude and asking you this without meeting you first._

 _My brother is my only family left. When we were young, our father left. When we were still young, our mother died. We did have our friend Winry Rockbell and her Grandmother. They are very dear, but they have pain in life too. My brother and I do not want to take so much from the Rockbell._

 _So Ed and I are alone in life, but we are together. This time, Ed has a job far away and I cannot come with. Ed is my older brother, but sometimes he needs to be looked after._

 _This time I can not look after him when he is so far away. This is why I am sending you this letter. My brother is loud, angry, does not listen, and rude. But he is also smart, he cares, he tries so hard and he is my only family. Sometimes he forgets to eat, or sleep when he is reading. Sometimes he does not do his exercise. He does not drink milk._

 _I do not ask you to try and fight my brother to do all the things he needs to stay healthy. That is too much._

 _Can I ask you please to do something small? Maybe remind him to eat or remind him to drink his milk. Not all the days! But maybe if you think on it some days._

 _It would be a lot for me, if you do a small thing like this._

 _Thank you for your time,_

 _Alphonse Elric_

 _(Please do not show my brother this letter. He does not need to know I am worrying. Thank you again)_

Harry looked up. Ed was across the table from him, but seemed completely absorbed in eating as much oatmeal as quickly as possible. Harry slipped the letter in his book bag; he'd show it to Ron and Hermione later. He wanted to know what they thought about it, but he would wait until he was sure Ed wouldn't see.

The opportunity didn't come until late evening, after Ron's first (rough) quidditch practice. They arrived back in the Common Room where they were informed by Hermione that Ed had gone to the library. Hermione seemed to want to follow Ed, but she'd been waiting for them to get back from the pitch instead, eager as always to get started on homework. This time Harry had a good reason to put her off.

He pulled out the letter from Alphonse. "What do you think of this?"

Hermione read it quickly, before handing it off to Ron. She looked thoughtful. "It's very impressive that Alphonse has managed to learn that much English without being able to practice."

"That's what you picked up, 'mione?" Ron asked, eyebrows rising up over the edge of the letter. "What about the part where they're basically orphans?"

"I was trying to be positive, Ronald!"

Before they could start arguing over a _letter_ , Harry cut in. "Yeah, he said both of those things. But what do they mean?"

Hermione bit her lip, and Ron looked back down at the letter.

"I think," Ron said after a while, "There might not be any harm to it. After all, we do pretty similar things for Hermione during finals every year."

"Hey!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I suppose keeping an eye on one more bookworm wouldn't be too bad."

"I'm not _that_ bad!"

Ron and Harry both looked at her. "Do you remember that time in third year where you passed out in Transfiguration?" Ron asked.

"That was third year!" Hermione objected, as if that made any significant difference.

"You told Madam Pomfrey that you hadn't eaten lunch or breakfast or dinner the night before!" Harry objected. "Then while you were still in the Hospital Wing, you told us you were fine because you would remember to eat dinner three times tonight."

The discussion about the letter from Ed's brother devolved into petty banter about Hermione's study habits, then meandered around to his and Ron's own study habits. It was an extremely productive discussion that ensured that nobody did any studying at all.

But it did keep them awake and entertained until Harry saw Sirius's head in the fire.

/

The next morning the paper had a smug-looking picture of Umbridge and the headline 'MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR'. Ron read the article over Hermione's shoulder, Harry following along over her other shoulder. He had to admit that linking Madam Marchbanks to subversive goblin groups immediately after she disagreed with the Ministry seemed like it would be a pretty effective tactic, if an incredibly obvious one.

When he looked up, Elric was reading his own copy of the paper, scanning the same article. He didn't seem phased at all.

Hermione and Harry complained about the obvious Ministry meddling. Elric was obviously keeping an ear on the conversation, from the way he snorted when Ron mentioned Ubmridge trying to 'inspect' McGonagall.

"What d'you think of this Decree, then?" he asked Elric, who shrugged.

"It seems very silly to waste time controlling school children. Very over the top. Very obvious. But so is Ministry target."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "You seem very calm about this level of government meddling."

Elric shrugged again. "Like I said, very obvious. When is obvious, is easy to see and understand. And ignore, if you want. It is sneaky where you want to worry."

Ron frowned. Didn't Elric understand that the Ministry undermining Dumbledore meant the Ministry undermining their protection against You-Know-Who? _Harry's_ protection against You-Know-Who? He opened his mouth to say so, but-

But- He could see it, in his head, knights and bishops and pawns, moving across the board. It was so easy to focus on the big pieces…

"He's not wrong," Ron admitted. "It's like in chess, sometimes you put something obvious out in order to distract your opponent. That's really the only way pawns mange to take pieces after the opening game. That or your opponent isn't paying attention. Or just sucks."

Elric laughed. "All possibilities, yes. Some more likely than others."

"So you think this is just the Ministry trying to sneak something even more awful under this?" Hermione asked.

"Don't look at me," Elric said, looking back at his paper. "Is your Ministry."

During Potions, Ron wondered if they were going to tell Elric about everything Sirius had said last night. If they were, finding a time would be tough, he mused, watching Elric promptly abandon them for the library as he and Harry went to Divination.

During Divination, Ron promptly forgot entirely about Elric, faced as he was with Umbridge's squat form. She stood out like a sore thumb; her blocky bright pink ensemble making her horribly visible against the many draped scarves decorating the classroom.

It was always hard to ignore Umbridge, but her squeaky blunt pinkness made it even harder. And, somehow, she managed to become progressively worse as class went on. Every time the woman spoke, Trelawny became more and more agitated in the face of Umbridge's bullying. It was a shame. Trelawny wasn't Ron's favorite teacher, but she didn't deserve Umbridge.

Trelawny's "inspection" meant that Ron had to face Umbridge twice in one day. He had hope that somehow the woman would have trouble covering her own Defense Against the Dark Arts classes if she was running around being High Great Grand High Inquisitor or whatever she was calling herself, but no. She was still there, and still awful.

Class was awful too. Hermione and Umbridge got into another argument about the book. Umbridge brought up Quirrel, saying he was the only teacher who taught at an "appropriate level", which pissed Harry off.

Harry ended up getting another week's detention.

Somehow, Elric looked bored through the whole thing.

/

When Harry showed up for the first night of this second week of detention, McGonagall was there. She seemed completely at home in Umbridge's quarters, while Umbridge herself fidgeted as if she were uncomfortable.

"Ah, Potter," McGonagall said, smooth as silk. "I didn't realize it was you Dolores had scheduled for detention tonight."

Umbridge twitched. "Yes, well, now that Potter is here, perhaps you should take your leave," she said. It sounded less like a suggestion and more like an order. She turned to Harry, and pointed at the desk. "Sit."

He sat, while McGonagall politely declined to leave just yet. He heard, "After all, we haven't finished our tea, yet," and had to wonder at how sincere she sounded.

"Did you bring a quill, Potter?" Umbridge snapped.

Harry shook his head. Umbridge's eyes widened until Harry thought they would pop out of her skull, and her already thin mouth almost vanished.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then took another deep breath. Her eyes opened, and her mouth relaxed into that simpering smile she so often wore.

"I see!" she said brightly, and waved her stubby wand. A dark blue quill with pink stripes and a bottle of ink floated over to the desk. "Sit down, Mr. Potter. You may use my supplies tonight. I trust you remember the lines I set you to last time you were here?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge."

"Good, good. Another week to let the message really get through to you, I think."

Harry sat down, and gingerly dipped the quill in the ink and began writing, but his blood stayed in his body. He finished the first line- 'I must not tell lies' – and paused. In the background, Professor McGonagall was detailing some of the types of decorations Hogwarts used during Halloween, but his hand was still unbothered. It seemed like Umbridge had lent him an actual quill. He set to work on the lines.

McGonagall stayed longer than Harry expected, and she seemed to go through all of the castle decorations for all of the holidays before finally finishing her cup of tea. By the time she left, it was dark outside, and Umbridge seemed to have forgotten about using the blood quill on him.

The next morning, Angelina found out about the detentions. She found out about the detentions so loudly that Professor McGongagall swept down from the staff table to scold them for the racket.

Before she left, she turned to Harry, and said, "Mr. Potter, I understand this has been a trying time for you, but it would do you well to remember who Professor Umbridge reports to. Try not to lose your temper when dealing with her."

/

While the sports girl was yelling at Harry, Draco Malfoy once again sidled up to the Gryffindor table, smiling.

"Hello, Elric. Have you given any thought to ditching the lions for the true Hogwarts experience?"

Ed looked up from his pancakes. Why Malfoy felt he needed to keep interrupting during breakfast, Ed had no idea, but he was starting to resent it.

"Not really," he said. "I hear your rooms are in dungeon, below lake. Sounds very interesting, yes, but I think the cold would not be good for me."

Malfoy hid his disappointment well, Ed could give him that. "There _is_ a fireplace," he said. "Truly, you should give it some more thought. If you joined Slytherin, I'm certain you'd find someone to discuss alchemy-"

"You want alchemy lesson."

"I-" Malfoy looked like Ed had slapped him in the face with a cold fish.

Ed put his fork down and stood to face the kid. He held up a single finger. "One, I read what you have in your library. These alchemy books are very basic." A second finger joined the first. "Two, you offer me this great thing despite I am with your rivaling." A third finger was raised. "Three, you come to me, again, and I do not think you here just for making friends."

"And what if I do want alchemy lessons?" Malfoy immediately shot back. "As you said, our alchemy texts are lacking."

"Ah." Ed wasn't expecting this. He had thought Malfoy would scurry back under once Ed had revealed his little plan. Yet here he was, sticking to his guns.

It would be impressive if it weren't so inconvenient. Ed had little time and zero inclination to take a student now, or ever, really, but he recognized that keeping an eye on Malfoy could be very useful. The briefing had outlined how influential the kid's family was in the government, and how influential Malfoy himself was within the school. Being able to tap into that influence could come in handy down the line.

That knowledge did nothing to change how little Ed felt like teaching some stuck up brat.

"Ah," Ed said again, thinking fast. "If you… I will teach you if you can-"

"Excellent!" Malfoy looked smug. He was lucky he was so potentially useful.

"Do not interrupt!" If Ed was going to teach alchemy, even reluctantly, he was going to do it right. "Maybe I will teach you. First, you must do this. You must run five times every morning around the castle grounds. While you run, you must think: all is one, one is all. When you can tell me what is meaning, I will teach you."

/

As always, you can always come chat at me at BuffPidgey on tumblr. Also, my birthday was 3 days ago, so if you want to get me a present, I would love some reviews~


	11. Chapter 11

The puppy is growing, and now she doesn't chew on everything all the time! Yay! Still unemployed, and I have Opinions on that, but I also have A NEW CHAPTER!

A lot of people were very excited in this possibly happening. I love reading your guys' reviews and smiling at how close or far away your guesses/desires are for this story. Keep guessing! I love it!

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence. (Wizards being sorely unprepared for muggle duels) Malfoy being a little shit.

/

Malfoy complained about the basic requirements Ed had set down. Ed wasn't surprised. When he told the kid that if he were able to stick Malfoy on an island with no wand and only a knife for a month he would, Malfoy got offended. Something about muggles and labor that Ed didn't listen to. When Ed started muttering about using the lake to create an island in the Forbidden Forest, the kid finally seemed to get the message and cleared out, leaving Ed to finish his breakfast in peace.

It was a peace that lasted until Harry and his friends arrived, but Ed would take what he could get.

"Why does Malfoy look like he found a dead fish on his plate?" Ron asked as he helped himself to oatmeal.

"I told him what to do before I would teach him alchemy." There was only so much rampant teen speculation Ed could take in a day. Sometimes nipping that shit in the bud was the best use of his time.

"Oh?" Hermione's head snapped up from her newspaper. "And what _does_ he have to do in exchange for alchemy lessons?"

Ed eyed the hungry look on Hermione's face wearily as he remembered that she had expressed interest in learning alchemy as well. "I told him to run around castle grounds five times every day, and he must understand what is meaning of 'all is one, one is all'. Then I will teach him."

"If I did that, would you teach me?" Ed wished Hermione would look at her breakfast like that, instead of him.

He didn't want any alchemy students, but… "If you can give me answer, and do exercise, yes." He had been here long enough to know that if he had denied Hermione the opportunity his life would become very unpleasant very quickly.

"Why does Hermione have to run for alchemy lessons?" Harry asked.

"To train the mind you must train the body," Ed told him. "Is a big problem for you wizards here."

Ron snorted. "I can't see someone like you being too interested in exercise."

"YOU SAY I AM TOO SHORT FOR –"

Professor McGonagall managed to calm everything down before too many plates broke.

/

That evening, when Harry stumbled through the portrait hole, instead of the empty common room he expected, Hermione, Ron, and Ed sat near the dying fireplace. Hermione and Ed were reading, while Ron sat with the dream journal homework for Divination slowly falling off his lap. Ed was a surprise, but he was glad to see Hermione and Ron there.

"How did it go tonight?" Ron asked, ignoring the journal now on the floor.

Harry let himself fall onto one of the couches. "It's odd… first it was McGonagall showing up while I was having detention, and tonight Flitwick showed up. He stayed almost the whole detention."

"Fancy that," Hermione said. She was staring very intently at Ed.

Ed didn't look up from his reading.

Undaunted, Hermione pushed on. "We don't know how long Professors will keep showing up. We should do something about Umbridge," she said.

"I already suggested poison," Ron grumbled. "You and Ed both said no."

"That's not what I meant!"

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"What Ed said this morning gave me an idea," she said, gently putting her book to the side. "If we don't have a professor who will teach us proper Defense, that doesn't mean we don't have someone who _can_ teach us."

She was staring very directly at Harry, and he was uncomfortably reminded of the times he had been called on in class. Hermione wanted an answer from him, somehow, but he had no idea what the answer could be.

Ron stepped in before the silence got too awkward. Which just showed why he was Harry's best friend.

"You want us to have more homework?" he asked.

"Not homework," Hermione said. "But there would be classes."

"And who would teach them?" Harry asked. "You?"

Hermione smiled. "It's nice that you think so, but, I was thinking that you and Edward might teach us, Harry."

Harry shot a glance at Ron, hoping that his best friend would also feel like Hermione was perhaps reaching a bit on this. Harry felt a deep pang of betrayal when it looked like Ron was honestly considering it.

"Why Elric, though?" he asked.

"Edward brought up a very good point this morning at breakfast," Hermione explained as though Ed wasn't there. He was still reading his book, and hadn't looked up since Harry had mentioned that Flitwick had been at his detention. "There is very little physical education at Hogwarts."

"I'm not complaining," Harry told her.

"I'm not either! But…" she paused.

Ron took the opportunity to ask, "What kind of muggle education?"

"It's not education, not really," Hermione said with a dismissive toss of her hair. Being as bushy as it was, it was quite a scene. "At least not until you get to secondary school, really. Until then it's just an excuse to let kids play games during the school day. But at Hogwarts we don't even have that. I don't know about training the body and the brain, but… Being able to run away from Death Eaters without getting out of breath doesn't sound like the worst idea in the world."

She heaved a great sigh after finishing her rant, but wasn't meeting Harry's eyes, or Ron's. In the flickering of the firelight, Harry remembered last summer at the Quidditch World Cup.

Paper crackled as Ed turned a page. He still hadn't looked up.

Hermione nudged him, then nudged him again, harder, when he didn't look up the first time.

"Oi, Elric," Ron said, waving a hand, trying to get his attention. When that failed, he tugged at the book in Ed's hands.

That finally worked. Ed's gloved hand snaked out to slap Ron away from his book, and he looked up.

"What do you want?"

"What do you think about this Defense club of Hermione's?" Harry asked.

Ed narrowed his eyes. "Where you are giving lessons, yes? Should include real fighting," he said, grabbing a bookmark to keep his place. "You kids get hard breath going up so many stairs. If you really want to learn, train your brain and body. If you want to learn defending, you must learn how attacking works. To attack you must not be so weak."

"So you'll teach us then?" Hermione said. It was less of an inquiry, and more of a demand. Ed's eyebrows flew up, and Harry felt for him, for a moment. Having Hermione decide your schedule was an experience.

Ed sputtered. "Well – I –"

"Only, like you pointed out, there really is no one else who seems to be willing or even _able_ to teach us these things," Hermione pressed, leaning forward. Ed leaned away from her. "At least when it comes to the, er, physical stuff. Harry can teach us the magic. Unless you'd like to teach us some alchemy as well?"

Ed had almost fallen backwards over the armrest as Hermione had advanced on him, until she had mentioned alchemy. Once back on familiar ground, it seemed Ed had a firmer footing. He straightened, and said, "I tell you how you learn alchemy, yes? You do the running and –"

"And figure out your riddle, right," Hermione said. She nodded, and seemed to decide something, as she let Ed find his balance once more, turning to face Harry. "So, Harry, we should have a meeting during the next Hogsmead weekend, since we obviously shouldn't talk about this in school."

"Talk about what?" Harry demanded. "I never said yes to teaching this club!"

Harry tried to fend off Hermione. Her idea was ridiculous; he couldn't teach a defense club! If anyone one should, it was Ed, since he was the professional bodyguard. Though, as Hermione pointed out, Ed couldn't teach them anything about magical defense as he was still struggling with levitation spells.

Once Hermione pointed that out, Ed very loudly decided that he was going to bed. Harry saw his chance to escape, and took it. As he very pointedly did _not_ run up the stairs to the boys' dorms, he knew Hermione was giving him a look that said 'this is not over'.

/

Despite how late she had stayed up last night trying to convince Harry to teach Defense, Hermione woke two hours earlier than usual. Students were technically allowed out of their dorms after 6:00am, but the darkness reminded her of the times she had left the dorms during curfew, and her steps fell quietly on the stones as she made her way along the halls. Outside, though the sun hadn't even truly risen yet, she could see that mist was thick on the grass in the cool fall air.

She could also see another figure making its way down the steps of the castle

Hermione drew her wand and crept forward. The figure resolved in the mist, becoming clearer, more human shaped. The faint light from the figure's wand reflected off pale hair, and she finally recognized-

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are _you_ doing out here at this hour?"

Malfoy raised his wand and spun towards her, feet stuttering on the dew-damp stones. "Granger!" he said in a high pitched voice, before coughing and continuing, "I could ask you the same question. And what the bloody hell are you doing without a light on your wand? Forget how to use it?"

"I was out for a morning run, if you _must_ know," she replied, flicking light to the tip of her wand without a word.

Two spots of color appeared on Malfoy's pale face, visible only because of the added light. He glared at her. "I didn't think you would be interested in learning alchemy."

"That's obviously because you don't know me at all, or really pay attention in class then," she said. "I can't help you if your interpersonal observation skills are that poor." The pink spots were easier to see now. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have laps to run."

Hermione dismissed the light on her wand and jogged down the steps. Turning her back on Malfoy was a calculated risk, but since she could easily hear him sputtering behind her, she felt it was worth it.

Half an hour later, Hermione felt like her entire respiratory system was on fire, and the warm satisfaction of thoroughly insulting Malfoy was no longer sufficient motivation. Spite was the only thing keeping her going. She could hear Malfoy's ragged gasps as he doggedly kept up roughly five paces behind her.

He had tried outpacing her, but that ambition had died pretty thoroughly in the first ten minutes. Thanks to the few years of gym class back when she had gone to primary school, Hermione remembered the ordeal of running the mile and hadn't foolishly spent all of her energy in the first lap. Now, Hermione suspected that, just as she was only moving because she refused to be the first one to stop, Malfoy was drawing from that same well of spite.

They both had only managed two and a half laps of the five Edward had asked them to do.

The worst part, in Hermione's opinion, (besides having to share this with Malfoy of all people) was that she was so focused on not letting her lungs kill her and keeping count that she could barely concentrate on what she was _supposed_ to be thinking about. Edward's 'one is all, all is one' riddle kept slipping out of her mind, and she had to keep reminding herself to think about it even as her lungs and legs burned.

At least Malfoy was suffering, too.

Somewhere in the third lap, the sky was finally starting to lighten, and in that weak milky light Hermione saw something out of the corner of her eye. Even in the misty morning, the cloak Edward had brought from Amestris stood out as the red fabric flapped at his heels while he ran, keeping pace with her easily. The spite fueling Hermione found a new source. Edward made it look so EASY.

"How many laps?" he asked, and yawned, as though running half way around Hogwarts' grounds wasn't enough of a wake up.

"Finished two! On three!" Hermione managed to gasp.

Edward sighed. "So slow," he groaned, then fell back.

Hermione heard him say something, and heard Malfoy gasp a response.

"You soft wizards think you can learn alchemy?" Edward bellowed after Malfoy gave his answer, clear enough for Hermione to hear. "This is easy part!"

Over her shoulder, Hermione saw the flash of red once more, and Edward passed her, an impression of determination, blond hair, and flapping coat. Then he pulled ahead, farther and farther, until he turned the corner and vanished behind the castle.

He passed them again, right after they had started on the third lap. By the fourth lap, the sun had fully risen, burning the mist off of the grass and the lake, and Edward was near the steps of Hogwarts, doing push ups.

Hermione didn't remember much of the fifth lap. She did remember passing the Greenhouses, and nearing the castle steps.

Which is what she told Madam Pomfrey when she woke up in the Hospital Wing.

/

The alarm bells didn't start ringing in Ron's head until he and Harry got down to the Great Hall and Hermione wasn't there. Hermione did tend to rise earlier than he or Harry, but so far this year she had made a point to walk with them to breakfast every day. It was possible that she was in the library already – this was Hermione – but so far this year her big research project had been alchemy, and Elric was pretty reliably found at the breakfast table.

Though – Elric wasn't here either. In Ron's opinion, Elric wasn't the most attentive bodyguard, but he hadn't yet left Harry to go down to breakfast alone. Logically, leaving Harry unguarded one random morning wasn't likely to lead to anything, but Hermione and Elric missing on the same morning… that was odd. And 'odd' wasn't always good.

Harry was looking around; he had noticed Hermione's absence too. "Where d'you think she is?" he asked.

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but something caught his eye.

Elric's bright red coat was moving through the sea of black school robes, the contrast making him stand out starkly, despite his height – or lack thereof.

"Harry, Ron," he said, standing a little apart from them. Ron noticed that Elric wasn't meeting his eyes, or Harry's. "You come with me, I will show."

Elric's accent was thicker than Ron had heard it in a long time. When he said 'with' it sounded like 'vit'.

There was no time to ponder why Elric's English skills had deteriorated so suddenly; he was making his way back out of the Great Hall. Ron and Harry followed him up the stairs and in a direction that started seeming ominously familiar to Ron. He had certainly made this journey plenty of times in the past.

"Elric," he asked, "Why is Hermione in the Hospital Wing?"

Elric didn't answer him, instead walking faster. His heavy boots clunked on the stones in the halls.

Harry surged after him. "Ed, what happened?"

"Is not my fault," Elric protested, though his shoulders were up by his ears. "Is – was –" As he struggled for words, they reached the doors to the Hospital Wing. Elric was saved from giving a full explanation, but only for now. Hermione was more important.

Through the door, Madam Pomfrey stood as a pillar of white-aproned authority. She turned when she heard the clatter of their footsteps, a resigned expression on her face.

Ron ignored her look; it wasn't HIS fault that they managed to end up here so often.

"Madam Pomfrey –" Harry started to say, but she cut him off with a placating wave of her hand.

"She's over here, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said. "I'm glad you lot started the year out with something simple. Miss Granger has a small case of overexertion with a dash of dehydration. She and Mr. Malfoy should be fit to go to classes soon enough."

"Really, I don't need to be in a bed." Hermione's voice piped up from behind Ron. She was, indeed, propped up on one of the Hospital Wing beds, with a plate of toast and eggs in front of her. Next to the plate, a large pitcher of water stood sentry over a cup and two empty potion vials. "I feel fine now."

"Speak for yourself, Granger." Unlike Hermione, Malfoy was positively lounging on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. "I don't know if my lungs shall ever be the same again."

Elric walked past Ron, towards Malfoy's bed. He looked the guy up and down, before saying, "Well, then I have one less student to worry for."

Malfoy sat up like he had been stabbed. "You're not saying you're going to teach alchemy to _Granger_! She passed out too!"

"Is not about who falls, is about who falls, is about who gets back up and keeps walking," Elric said. Ron couldn't see his face – he was turned away, and his unruly bangs obscured anything that could have been visible – but he still knew Elric well enough to know that he wasn't pleased. "I tell you before, this is easy. Keep running, keep thinking and you will learn. My teacher put me and my brother on island with only knife. No food, no water. We had to find for ourselves. Thirty days we stay there to survive and think on 'one is all, all is one'. My teacher had to survive in cold north up by Briggs. She had to fight –"

Elric stopped, and gestured with his hands, indicating something big.

"What is word… Medved. Is big, big claws, big teeth, brown hair..."

"What, like a wolf?"

"No, no, wolf is like… angry dog. No, Medved is big, bigger than human, go 'raaah', with big claws," Elric said, making clawing motions with his gloved hands.

"Oh, your teacher had to fight a bear?" Hermione asked.

Elric nodded. "Yes, she fought bear for food before her teacher said yes to her alchemy lessons. All you do is run and think. Not so hard, yes?"

Malfoy was quiet after that.

Ron turned to Hermione. "Do you really want to learn alchemy from a nutter like that?" he muttered, jerking his head at Elric.

"Yeah," Harry said, quietly. "Amestris sounds rather… odd. And you did pass out."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she pushed herself up from her pillows. "Everyone needs to stop fussing," she declared. "And yes, I _will_ keep doing the laps. I told you boys, Edward was right about a few things, and Hogwarts' lack of physical education is one of them."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

"Hermione, he made you run until you passed out," Ron said.

"Actually, Ronald, I ran on my own, thank you very much. Edward didn't force me to do anything," she said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I simply pushed myself a little too hard this morning. In fact, Edward was doing his own exercises near the stairs, instead of standing behind me and shouting like a drill sergeant."

Since she seemed so sure that Elric was utterly innocent, Ron left it at that. For now. He knew that if he and Hermione kept arguing, Harry might get upset again, and he was already upset enough about this whole thing in the first place. Later he would get to the bottom of this whole issue, once Harry was out of earshot.

/

Draco pretended to ignore the Gryffindors as they simpered at each other. It was all inane babble at best, but, he told himself, even Gryffindor babble could hold some useful secrets, and it seemed they had all forgotten he was there for now. Usually, the goody-two-shoes group wouldn't dare ignore him, and, usually, Draco made sure of that. He had his pride, after all. This morning, however, he was content to simply… gather information.

Yes, he could glean important insights while he recovered his stamina after his… miscalculation this morning. Before Elric had brought the other two in, he had been slightly concerned that Granger would be inclined to brag about how she had a hardier constitution than even someone from the Malfoy family. Now, though, all she had talked about was passing out… it was possible that she hadn't even noticed that he had been sick there towards the end.

It was looking like he would manage to make it out of this without anyone knowing the better – that Draco Malfoy had managed to do _worse_ at this initial trial than the mudblood.

Of course, it was only natural that Granger had fared better; she was from the uncivilized muggle world. They probably did all kinds of horrible things like this all the time. Gently bred young men like himself were never expected to do things like _this_.

Except, now he was. Elric had made it perfectly clear with his speech that he expected Draco to keep enduring this horrible practice if he wanted to learn alchemy. At this point, Draco was sorely tempted to request a month on an island instead. At least on the island there would be no running.

Even though he wanted to, even though every breath still seared the back of his throat, Draco was determined to keep it up. If the mudblood was willing to endure this torture, he had to. There was no way a pureblood could simply let someone like her attain a prize like this without a fight.

Though Draco was determined, there was still a worry that ate at the corners of that feeling. Unlike so many things in his life, he could not reach out for help from his father. Elric had made that clear: this was a test he would fail or pass on his own. Knowing that he was alone in this challenge was intimidating, but, even in that fear, there was still a small voice that told him that any victory he won here would be his, and his alone.

And that idea was one that truly appealed to Draco.

/

Ed wasn't entirely sure where Hermione managed to find the time to do her laps, her homework, attend classes, eat, knit, convince Harry to run a Defense club, and set up a clandestine meeting for said club, but she sure found it. He had been aware of maybe half of the things she had been doing, and it was kind of a surprise when she dragged him to a hallway where Harry instructed them to "imagine a room that would be good for learning defense" and pace back and forth three times. Ed went along with it, and a door appeared.

Instead of inspecting the door, or trying to understand how it got there, the three kids dragged him into a large room that Ed was pretty sure was not a part of the floor when he had gotten there. The spacious room had large pillows and what looked like sandbags piled in one corner, a shelf of books with dark covers in another corner, and a large blackboard well-stocked with chalk along one corner.

The books were very tempting, but Ed knew he had to clarify something before he could really dig through them.

"Hermione," Ed asked. "When did you make this meeting? Why was I not there?"

She had already taken a book off the shelf, but she still turned to answer him. "I tried to get you to come to Hogsmeade with us, but you were in the library, working on something. You mumbled something about it being your day off. I don't think you actually heard anything I said."

Ed though back, trying to remember any discussion he had had during his day off. All he remembered from that day was making some progress on Marcoh's notes. It had been an exhilarating day, though some of the things Ed had managed to pull from the notes were phrased in troubling ways. That night's letter to Al had been long.

"Oh," was the only thing he could really say. Al had warned him not to do things like that, get so focused on his research that he ignored everything, but it had still happened.

Usually, Al was around to help, either with the research itself or to remind him that things like 'food' and 'other people' existed. He wasn't here, though, and Ed had to remind himself, now. It was turning out harder than he had expected. If he mentioned this in a letter, Ed was sure Al would chide him.

'Brother, you need to keep an eye on the real world!' Ed could almost see Al's careful handwriting, the letters pressed deeper into the paper from the force of mild exasperation. 'What if something happened? Don't you remember the time someone tripped and fell into a table in the State library? She had a bloody nose, and you didn't even realize until I asked you to help!'

Ed's fingers itched for a pen. He wanted to tell Al what had happened, just to see Al scold him in writing. To make sure he still knew how Al would react, even this far away.

Something in his vision moved, and Ed glanced up. On the shelf of books in front of him there was now a sheaf of papers, a quill, and an inkwell.

"Did you bring paper and pen?" he asked Hermione.

"Did you want to take notes?" Hermione asked, looking up. She spied the new things on the shelf. "I see! Well, it _is_ the Room of Requirement. It's supposed to give you things that you want. What did you find?"

She stepped forward, head craning to try and read the title of the book he had grabbed.

Ed raised one hand, as if to fend her off. "Ah, no, is not notes, I was thinking of writing letter to my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"Yes… you do not know this?" Had he not mentioned Al at all since he had gotten here?

Hermione shook her head. "We only know what you've told us."

It made sense that people the Ministry viewed as possible enemies wouldn't get briefings, and it made sense the Order wouldn't pass along any intel to kids they were determined to keep in the dark.

"I have just one brother, Al, Alphonse Elric. He is one year younger," Ed said. "He is still in Amestris, staying in the town we are from, Resembool."

"Is he staying with your parents?"

"I- he- no." Ed could feel his face go slack as he tried not to – to think. Or feel. "My asshole father left when we are small. And Mother –" he stopped. His shoulder ached as the automail pulled at it, and he could feel his weight pushing down on his leg, but he didn't move to alleviate his discomfort. "She died a few years after."

Hermione gasped, hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Oh, oh, Edward I'm sorry! I didn't know –"

"So Al is staying with Babulya Pianko," he said, trying to push past whatever platitudes Hermione wanted to say. He appreciated the thought, but he didn't feel like struggling through his clunky English to describe his feelings about his family. "Babulya Pianko is grandmother of our friend Winry, and she taked us in after. She and Winry always say to us to come visit, so now while I work, Al can do a long visit."

Hermione still looked like she wanted to say something touching and maybe involving feelings. "I see..." she said, and Ed braced himself for some kind of emotional follow-up.

"Oi!"

Ron's shout shattered any kind of reply Hermione had been about to say. "People are coming," he said when Ed and Hermione whipped their heads around to look at him.

/

It was hard to pry either Hermione or Ed away from books, so when they both easily slid away from the shelves to help Harry and Ron greet the new members of this new underground defense club, Harry knew something had happened. His hunch was only strengthened when he saw how Ed was carefully staring straight ahead, and Hermione had that particular tilt to her chin that she got only when she realized she had made some kind of mistake.

As more people filed in, Harry realized that he would much rather be asking Hermione about what she and Ed had been talking about instead of trying to organize some kind of secret Defense Against the Dark Arts club. Especially when he was almost unanimously elected head of the club. The only holdout was Ed.

Harry shot Ed a grateful glance, but Ed only smirked back, because he had a horrible sense of humor. It seemed Ed had forgotten that Hermione had also volunteered Ed as a teacher along with Harry.

Reminding Ed of this fact would have been Harry's first official act as leader of Dumbledore's Army (Ed had actually laughed when the name had been suggested, and then had a suspicious coughing fit when Hermione declared the name official, because he had a horrible sense of humor.) but someone had asked what they were working on first, and Harry's mind had automatically jumped to Expeliarmus.

Ed wound up working with Neville, who managed to successfully disarm Ed on the first go, though Harry suspected that it was partially because Ed seemed distracted by the chaos in the room. For his part, Ed couldn't seem to manage the spell. Harry corrected Ed's too-stiff technique, but that didn't help.

Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione if left-handedness or accents affected spell casting.

The rest of the group didn't seem to fair much better, and when Harry saw someone's sleeve catch on fire, he realized they needed some kind of break. Everyone seemed fairly enthusiastic, but the last thing he wanted was that enthusiasm to land someone in the Hospital Wing.

"Okay, stop!" he yelled. "Stop! STOP!"

In the chaos no one heard him, and Harry thought about how useful a whistle would be, and immediately spotted one lying on the nearest row of books. He blew one sharp note, and everyone lowered their wands.

"That wasn't bad, but there's definite room for improvement," he said.

The night wore on until Hermione reminded Harry to check the time. As he checked the Marauder's Map to keep the small groups of three and four clear of teachers, Harry realized that he had completely forgotten to make Ed help teach.

/

So ends a really very violent chapter of this fic, my goodness Ed. We're approaching the midway point, and I'm really excited for things to start... Well, you'll see.

As always, please do come say Hi on my tumblr, buffpidgey. It would be really nice to see you there!

I've also seen fic authors talk about opening Discords for their fics... would anyone be interested in that?


	12. Chapter 12

So... Here we are again! It's a good thing I had that buffer of chapters... first I took a 10 day trip from Minnesota aaaaalllll the way down to Florida to be a judge in Debate Nationals which. Florida why do you play the game where it's 88 outside, but the AC is set to 60 inside? It's a bad, bad game. Then my sister came to visit the whole of last week. I don't get to see her often since she lives in Colorado now. The moral? Buffers are Good!

I wanted a few things to move a bit more quickly in this chapter and the next chapter, but they didn't. So enjoy the extra words because these recalcitrant children will not cooperate.

EDIT! My wonderful beta, viscountfrancisbacon, noted that this is my fic's birthday! AYSTIAGI turns 1 year old today! In celebration, come and ask me some questions about the future of the fic over at my tumblr at BuffPidgey. I'll be more lenient on my no spoilers policy in celebration :)

 **Chapter Warnings:** Canon typical violence (that wizards just are not prepared for), Umbridge

/

The next Wednesday, Harry spent the entire day reminding himself to rope Ed into teaching too. Last week going around and seeing to everyone's Expeliarmus technique had been fine, but Hermione had apparently found some book that looked into the benefits of physical fitness on spellcasting and Defense Against the Dark Arts while she had been looking for a tradition of fighting in alchemy apprenticeships, and brought the subject up herself.

"Is that why you and Malfoy keep passing out on the lawn in the morning?" Zacharias Smith asked.

"I only passed out the first day, thank you very much," Hermione replied. "And that pertains to something else."

"Does it really, though? Because I'm not sure how you making us run laps like you are is different."

"It _is_ different," she insisted, "because that is for alchemy training, if you must know. Edward insists that alchemists ought to train their bodies along with their minds. Which is why he is going to be in charge of that aspect."

Ed, who had been watching Hermione's announcement with suitable weariness, leaned over and whispered, "Is she talking serious?" to Harry.

"Absolutely," Harry whispered back. "Good luck."

When everyone turned to look at Ed, he shot Harry a dirty look, but stood his ground against the weight of the entire club's attention.

"Hermione is not wrong," he announced. "I come here and see you read many books, this is good, but I learned that to train mind you must also train body. This is most important if you want to train to stay living!"

"You're not going to make us run laps until we pass out, are you?" someone asked.

"Yeah, cuz mate, we're here for learning Defense Against the Dark Arts," George said.

"Not alchemy," Fred added. "Especially if it involves that much running."

Ed held up one hand. "Not so many laps, no, but some running is good," he said. "If you are in fight, or if you are trying to keep away from fight, running is important if you do not want to get caught."

"How many fights have _you_ been in?" Smith asked.

"More than you," Ed shot back. "You want me to show you?"

"You can't even cast first year spells properly!" Smith snorted, clearly unimpressed.

"I am not scared. Are you?"

Smith looked skeptical, squinting at Ed as if he could see the trick hiding up his sleeve. Harry realized then that Ed did look like an easy target; he wasn't very tall, and Smith was right about his magical ability. Harry had never noticed how… ineffective Ed seemed as a bodyguard. He had always boasted this air of competency that was backed up by the military bearing of Colonel Mustang back at Grimmauld Place, but here, surrounded by people with wands who knew how to use them, Harry suddenly wasn't sure how Ed was supposed to keep himself safe, let alone defend Harry.

A ring started to form around the two boys as neither of them backed down, and Harry thought the walls of the Room of Requirement were farther away than they had been.

"What are the terms?" Ron asked, snapping everyone's attention to him. "If you two are going to duel, you should at least have terms."

"If I win, we don't have to do laps," Smith said, immediately. "And give this muggle stuff a rest, work on real Defense."

"When I win, we _do_ running," Ed announced, locking eyes once more with Smith. "And you do not question me about this again."

Smith drew his wand, holding it in front of him in the way Harry remembered from the one dueling lesson from second year. Ed made a small show of putting his wand back in his robes.

In the silence, Harry could hear Hermione's quiet scoff of, "Boys."

Fred and George were urging the rest of the D.A. away from the duel, and probably quietly taking bets. Harry wasn't listening.

"If you're not going to fight properly, you could at least not be rude," Smith said. "Do you even know how to duel?"

Ed shrugged. "Is very simple idea. We fight, but do not try and kill, and whoever stays standing wins, yes?" He wrapped one arm across his chest in some kind of stretch.

"I suppose you don't know the proper manners, then," Smith said. Harry had to wonder if Ed was trying to rile him up on purpose. "You bow before a duel. It's only polite."

As Smith said that, the memory of Voldemort back at the graveyard hit Harry hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. He didn't see what happened next as he tried to catch his breath over the phantom sound of 'That's it, Harry, bow to death,' in his ears.

One of the twins gently pushed him back, and murmured in his ear, "You 'right, Harry? You look a little pale."

Harry nodded. "I'm fine," he murmured. He caught his balance and looked to where Smith and Ed were still standing.

/

"Ready?" Ron called out. Smith and Elric nodded. "Alright, go!"

Smith jabbed his wand through the air, shooting a jinx at Elric, who neatly dodged to the side.

"I see," Elric said. He looked between Smith and the path the jinx took, but didn't go for his wand. Ron felt almost insulted on Smith's behalf.

He needn't have, since it seemed Smith felt plenty insulted on his own. He fired off three more jinxes in rapid succession, not giving Elric much time to doge.

Elric ran across the room, watching Smith and dodging the spells as they came. He wasn't moving nearly as smoothly as he had the first time, but it was still impressive to watch him pelt across the floor to one of the piles of squashy cushions. Grabbing them, he flung several at Smith, who jumped back.

During the lull in Smith's spellcasting, Elric clapped his hands, then slammed them onto the ground that was now free of pillows. Energy crackled and a curved wall formed between Elric and Smith.

"Alchemy!" Hermione gasped from next to Ron, grabbing his arm and shaking it. "And it really does seem that he doesn't need the usual means of channeling the energy. He didn't even stop to draw a circle, and we've seen that his gloves don't have anything drawn on them..." she trailed off as Smith rose from the defensive crouch he had adapted when Elric had started throwing things.

Realizing he had been duped, Smith cursed, and yelled, "Is that the best you can do, Elric?"

Though he was out of sight, Ron could still hear Elric moving behind his wall. "One moment," he called over the crackle of another transmutation. The light from the sparks danced against the white of the Room of Requirement, and cast an intimidating shadow from the wall Elric had made.

However, Smith refused to wait. He cast a strong concussive spell at the wall. Cracks started to appear. Some of the younger students standing next to Ron gasped at that.

As the light from Smith's spell died, Elric launched himself over the wall, carrying, of all things, a spear. He ran full tilt at Smith, swinging the spear so that he was holding it two-handed.

"Expelliarmus!" Smith cried. A jet of red light flew from his wand as he stumbled back, away from the nutter running at him with a medieval muggle weapon.

Elric struck the ground with the spear and jumped over the spell, within reach of Smith. He landed, then swung the butt of the spear into Smith's side.

Smith hit the ground, hard, with a pained gasp, his wand flying from his grasp. Elric stood over him, the spear blade hovering over his chest.

"I win." Elric wasn't even breathing hard.

/

The kid on the ground didn't react to Ed's announcement of victory. Instead, he lay curled on his side, coughing and groaning.

Behind him, Ed could hear whispers from the other kids.

"Merlin!"

"Bloody hell, how'd he do that?"

"He just whacked him!"

They were an odd combination of impressed and alarmed. An uneasy feeling curled in Ed's gut as he listened; he felt he had made a miscalculation somewhere.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved out of the crowd. Hermione knelt next to Smith, and murmured something Ed didn't catch.

Ron stood over them. "Can you get up, mate?" he asked.

Smith groaned in response.

"How hard did you hit him?" Harry asked quietly as he came to stand by Ed.

The rest of the D.A. were still staring. Ed remembered the few times he and Al had been run out of small towns, and tried not to fidget with the spear he had transmuted.

"Not that hard, I do not want to break his – his – chest bones." He gestured at his ribs.

"Right..."

Ron nudged Smith with a foot, and Hermione slapped his leg away.

"He's conscious, he might as well say something, or I'm going to kick him!" Ron protested. "If he's going to be like Malfoy in third year, I want to know now."

That earned a much louder groan from Smith and a smattering of anxious-sounding chuckles from the crowd.

"I am not- not like Malfoy," Smith gasped, finally trying to sit upright.

"I was there when it happened, Smith," Ron said. "Though, at least you're not whining about your father."

That didn't sound very funny to Ed, but it seemed the D.A. found it hilarious. Laughter spread across the group, dissolving the tension in the air, and Ed allowed himself to relax.

Harry strode forward to the middle of the floor. "Right, Ed did win that fight," he said as the chuckles started dying down. "And running isn't a bad idea."

The laughter was immediately replaced by noises of protesting children.

"I –" Harry stopped. He took a breath, and something in his demeanor changed. "I've had to. Run. Sometimes, magic isn't the only thing that will keep you safe."

From the way he was talking, Ed knew Harry was thinking about Voldemort as he spoke.

"I had to run, before. And dodging spells, like what Ed did, that's important too. I don't know a spell that could block the Crutacious curse. And there's nothing that can block the killing curse," Harry continued. As he spoke, one hand started rubbing at the scar on his forehead. "And if you're ever in a position where you don't have your wand… there's a lot of good reasons to practice this stuff."

One of the twins raised his hand. Harry pointed to him.

"Alright, but, we don't have to do any running tonight, do we?"

Harry shook his head.

"I think tonight we might leave early."

Nobody objected to that. Ed watched as they all left, once more in small groups. They seemed to be less hostile than they had been earlier, but Ed saw how none of them looked at him.

Ron came to stand next to him as Hermione worked on a cover story with Smith and a few of his friends who were taking him to the Hospital Wing. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked.

"My teacher."

"How many teachers did you have?"

"After I left school very young, only the one. She taught me and my brother alchemy, and how to fight. How to stay alive."

Ron looked at him, head tilted to one side. "You have to use those lessons often?"

Ed shrugged. "I am alchemist, so yes."

"Not just alchemy, the fighting," Ron insisted. "When you were in –" he stopped, and glanced at the remaining members of the D.A. who were still milling around, waiting for Harry's ok to leave. "When you were, ah, _working_ in Amestris, did you have to do much fighting?"

"I am still working," Ed pointed out quietly.

"You know what I mean," Ron hissed back. "You seemed pretty comfortable taking Smith out like you did. What kind of practice have you had?"

Ed's fingers clenched in the loose material of his Hogwarts robes as he realized what Ron was asking.

He shook his head. "Sometimes, people do not like what I say to them, they get angry. Sometimes maybe I stop a person from hurting other person, but I never – I do not kill." He wished he could explain more fully without sounding – he didn't even know how he sounded. That was part of the problem.

It wasn't like Ed wanted to fight, or hurt people, but he knew that there were people out there who would hurt him and his brother. He knew that better than ever, since that day when Scar had come after him. He had to fight to stay alive, to keep walking forward. It was something he had accepted long ago, but he didn't even know the English word for 'coal mine' or 'assault'. He wasn't about to play charades until Ron understood that sometimes the Colonel threw him into fucked up political situations just so he could punch his way back out.

Instead of pressing for answers, Ron gave him a hard stare. Ed forced himself to return the look. Finally, Ron let out a sight.

"At least you know how to fight," he said.

"What, you think we send –" Ed stopped himself from saying something about bodyguards. "A bad fighter?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe," he said.

Ed's brows rose.

"The Ministry can be fickle," he said. "And they don't like Harry this year, in case you haven't noticed."

"Maybe your Ministry do not like Harry, but I think he is not so bad."

After saying something like that Ed _had_ to leave. He tried not to run to the bookshelves, feeling Ron's eyes on him all the way there.

/

Ten days after she started running laps, Hermione had built up enough stamina to actually begin thinking about Edward's riddle. She'd been tempted to look through the library to see if there was any reference to it in the alchemy books, but when Edward had seen the title of the book she was reading, he'd snorted and said that it was worse than useless. So she focused on doing laps. It was still horrid, and she still hated it, but she was getting better, which was a motivating thought.

Though, not as motivating as seeing Malfoy going through the same torture every morning. After that first morning, Hermione had been able to make it through the whole run, though Malfoy couldn't say the same. She had paced herself better that morning, and was able to savor the satisfaction of being the one to levitate Malfoy to the Hospital Wing after he had failed to learn from the previous morning. After that, Malfoy doggedly pushed himself every morning.

Hermione was sure that at least part of his determination was rooted in his "pride" as a Pureblood. The idea of letting a muggleborn being the only one to get proper alchemy lessons probably gave Malfoy nightmares or something, though she wasn't about to spend a lot of time speculating. Let the rich little bigot sweat it out; it'd be good for him.

The painfully rational part of Hermione pointed out that if Malfoy was being motivated by spite, so was she. Fortunately, it usually followed up by allowing that spite like Malfoy's had gotten people killed, and as long as she didn't follow through on any of her vague plans to break his legs, no matter how tempting said plans were, her motivations were no one's business.

Edward's motivations were his own, as well, though Hermione wondered why he came down every morning, usually a few minutes after they started running. Some days he ran with them, but most days he set up on one side of the castle, away from the entrance hall and did various exercises. Some pushups, some situps, some exercises Hermione couldn't quite name, and stretches.

One day, she swore she had seen Edward do a standing split on the wall of the castle. When she mentioned it to the boys later, Ron had sworn that that was completely impossible. When Hermione had told him that it actually was, he tried it himself. Madam Pomfrey had been very disappointed to see them again so soon.

This morning, Edward was doing some of the stranger exercises. After Hermione and Malfoy had run their five laps, he approached them. Part of Hermione, the part that always wanted to know everything wanted to ask what the names of those exercises were, but she was too busy catching her breath. She was determined to greet Edward, so when he was within earshot, she took a few extra-deep breaths.

"Good morning," she managed.

He nodded to her, but said nothing, simply observing the way she had her hands on her knees, and the way Malfoy looked like he was about to fall over as he looked up to see who she was talking to.

As Edward stood there, silent, Malfoy looked up, and glared. "Well? Have you got anything to say?"

"Do you know answer?"

"Of course not!" Malfoy snapped. "I've been running laps like some- some- _dog_ for days, and you've given us no hope of solving this! Who the bloody hell thinks with their legs?"

This time, Edward gave Malfoy his full attention. "You think this is hard? I tell you before, before I was learning alchemy, I stayed on an island with no food for a month. Here you have food, you have warmth, you have soft bed." He waved a hand at the castle looming behind him. "This is not hard! Not taxing! But you want help from me?"

Malfoy glared Edward down in the silence that fell after that question. He looked more uncertain as the silence stretched on, and on.

It was tempting to step in and say something, but Hermione held her tongue. She had agreed to Edward's terms, and she knew that he was going easy on her. On the both of them. Perhaps Malfoy lacked perspective – Hermione corrected herself. Malfoy absolutely did lack perspective. The only question was if his lack was from not seeing Edward during D.A. meetings, or from his… upbringing. She didn't think that he would lack perspective, one way or another, for long.

"Yes, I think I rather do want help with your impossible riddle," Malfoy finally said, standing up straight and sticking his chin out, as though trying to look down his nose at Edward. While Edward was short enough to do that, Malfoy completely lacked the kind of force to make the gesture look anything other than pompous.

"If you want help, then I will give you help. The same way my teacher sent help." Edward's expression was thunderous. "But know you ask for this."

Edward darted forward, and punched Malfoy in the gut. As he doubled over in pain, Edward kicked him across his ribs, sending him sprawling.

On the grass, Malfoy shuddered as Edward approached him. But Edward only knelt down and said, "I hear that your father is very powerful. I hear you are good at magic, but here you are, on ground. No magic here. No power here. No alchemy." He looked over and caught Hermione's eye and added, "Only me, only you."

Then, he stood up, and walked away.

/

Through the pain in his stomach and his ribs, Draco heard a voice.

"Can you get up, Malfoy?"

Of all the people to watch that, it had to be _Granger_. He groaned.

In two moves, Elric had felled him, without using magic or alchemy. With only two muggle dueling moves, Draco Malfoy had been utterly defeated. The worst part was that he had asked for it.

No, actually. The worst part was that Granger had seen it.

"Shall I take you to the Hospital Wing?" the damned girl asked again.

"No, you shall not," he managed to snap. "I am quite fine."

Granger pursed her lips. "Are you sure? The wound you sustained in third year seemed to pain you for quite a long time."

Draco did not snap at her. She wasn't worth it.

"If you're quite sure, I suppose I'll leave you to it," Granger said over her shoulder.

Once he was sure he was alone, Draco allowed himself to collapse back onto the grass. He would get up, once he was sure he could keep his composure.

The cold dew from the grass began to soak into this clothes. He would go back in, he told himself again. Soon.

/

They were more than half way down to Hagrid's cabin before they realized that nobody knew where Ed was. Harry felt guilty, but they were already on the grounds, and it had been so long since he had seen Hagrid that he really didn't feel like turning around.

"He is supposed to be your bodyguard," Ron said, musing aloud. "Shouldn't he be here? If we go back then – nah, we're just going to see Hagrid."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. We're fine. We've got the Cloak. The worst thing that could happen would be getting caught."

"Right, so let's hurry up!" Hermione whispered, pushing on the boys' shoulders.

Seeing Hagrid again was – intense. It was a relief to see him again of course, back in his hut where he belonged; but his face looked horrible, as if one of those giant winged horses from Beauxbatons had been tap-dancing on it. Hagrid's reluctance to explain his injuries only made Harry more uneasy. Hermione had claimed that a visit to Hagrid would cheer him up, and it did, but even at Hagrid's there were so many reminders that this year was – different. Painful.

The knocking on the door brought one more painful reminder as Umbridge strode into the hut like she owned it.

"My name is Dolores Umbridge," she said, loudly and slowly. "And this is Edward Elric." She gestured behind her, where Ed was standing, watching the proceedings with a bland expression.

Harry hadn't even noticed him walk in. When – why was he here? Why was he here with _her_?

"Dolores Umbridge? Don't you work for Fudge?" Hagrid asked. "What're ye doing at this hour with – isn't that a student?"

Umbridge tried to look down her nose at Hagrid, who was easily a meter taller than her, but she strode further into the cabin while she said, "Mr. Edward Elric is a guest of the Ministry at Hogwarts this year. He will be in your fifth year class. I felt that it would be good to introduce you now, to avoid any… upsetting confusion on Monday."

"I'm sure I would'a learned about Mr., er, Elric before –" Hagrid started to say before Umbridge cut him off again.

"While I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, I am now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, as well as the Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

Umbridge badgered Hagrid with questions, and the whole time Ed stood there, looking practically uninterested in what was happening.

He looked like he didn't care that Umbridge was poking around Hagrid's life, and he didn't object when Umbridge used Ed as an excuse to pry even more. Harry felt his nails digging into his palms. Ed was supposed to be on _his_ side; he wasn't supposed to be hanging about, helping Umbridge!

Ed managed to get back to the Tower before they did. Harry was about to throw open the curtains of Ed's bed, but Ron grabbed his arm.

"Hold it," he whispered.

"Don't you want answers?"

"Merlin's beard, yes, but not in front of –" Ron jerked his head to indicate the rest of the dorm, everyone else asleep in bed.

Harry hesitated, and Ron added, "Hermione probably wants to be there, too."

Finally, Harry allowed himself to be pulled away. But in the morning, Harry swore, Ed would explain himself.

/

Ron had a hard time falling asleep after visiting Hagrid. There were too many things swirling about in his mind; Hagrid's weird injuries, Umbridge's visit, the way she talked to Hagrid and how it crawled across his skin, and Elric being there. His dreams were a jumbled mess of his Aunts speaking very condescendingly to Hermione while he couldn't get Elric to stop reading, so when Hermione shook him awake, he was more relieved than annoyed.

It was barely six in the morning when Hermione pulled him and Harry out of their beds. It should have been a given that Elric was still asleep.

It should have been.

Looking at the empty bed where Elric was supposed to be, Ron wanted to start swearing, but he knew if he woke anyone up, Hermione would get caught, and then she would do something Drastic, and nobody wanted that.

But really, where the bloody hell had Elric gone?

Hermione waited until they were back in the common room before she proposed that he and Harry come down to run laps with her. Instead of doing that, Harry and Ron went down to wait on the steps while Hermione ran laps, on the off chance Elric would show up. Because Ron was not about to run laps before sunrise.

He would, however, comfortably watch Hermione run laps while Malfoy struggled to keep up before sunrise. Malfoy shot them a poisonous glare then pointedly ignored them while he… well, it looked more like flopping than running.

Ron sat on the castle steps in the pre-dawn not-light next to Harry and listened as the two sets of footsteps got farther and farther away. Harry had pulled his knees up to his chest, and rested his crossed arms on top of them as he gazed out into the dark mists on the grounds. It was a quiet, contemplative scene, and Ron kind of hated it.

Brooding over things had never really helped Harry, and Merlin knew that over the summer Harry had had more time to worry and overthink things than he needed.

"Hey Ron," Harry said, before Ron had a chance to break the silence himself. "Do you think Ed is really on our side?"

"What?"

"I know the Order sent him, but, Umbridge said the Ministry sent him, too, and he's been meeting with Umbridge – last night, and the first night of my detention, at least. And he goes off and does who-knows-what. And, back in Grimmauld Place he said that bodyguarding wasn't his 'real' reason for being here."

Harry paused, glaring off into the night. Ron waited; Harry didn't sound like he was done talking.

"While I was at the Dursleys, he seemed like a decent guy. He hung about, and he never really seemed to mind what the Dursleys were saying," Harry said. Ron thought he had been past feeling guilty about leaving Harry alone all summer, but at the reminder that Harry had had to spend three months with arguably the worst muggles in the world, it swept back in.

Harry hadn't said much of anything about the Dursleys in his letters; Ron had taken that to mean they had – calmed down or something. But no, they were still the worst. He didn't know what the Dursleys had said about Harry, even in front of guests, but he felt like he could guess. It made his skin crawl.

"So he and I got along during the summer, but now…" Harry sighed. "I don't know."

"I dunno, mate," Ron said, leaning over, so he was leaning shoulder-to-shoulder with Harry. "I think if we could get some answers from Elric we might be able to figure something out."

"What do you think of him?" Harry asked, still looking out across the grounds.

Ron thought about it a bit before answering, and the silence that fell while he thought seemed to muffle even his thoughts. Eventually, he said, "He doesn't seem like such a bad person. I want to think that there's someone here who can help keep you safe, but you're right. He goes off to do his own thing, and that seems suspicious."

He thought a bit more, then added, "I'm not sure if him beating up Smith is sketchy or hilarious, though."

Harry burst out laughing, and Ron grinned.

/

Edward didn't come down to the grounds that morning. After her laps, Hermione stood and glared at the steps where Harry and Ron were waiting, and where Edward _should_ be. It was a bit concerning, considering his behavior lately. Physical violence and meeting with Umbridge after hours was not, in Hermione's opinion, a positive pattern of behavior. She had hoped to get to the bottom of it this morning.

She led Harry and Ron back into the castle. When she came back from a quick shower and a change of clothes, they reported that Edward wasn't anywhere in Gryffindor Tower. He wasn't in the Great Hall, either, when they went to grab breakfast.

It was Saturday, so they didn't have class, which meant that they had time to go back to the Tower to grab the Marauder's Map. A quick glance told them that Edward was in the library, and they were off. When they arrived, it was quite clear that Edward had been there for quite some time. He had several books spread out in front of him, and quite possibly several more books' worth of lose notes spread out in various haphazard piles across the rest of the table. She tried to get a look at some of the books, but they were in Amestrian. A quick look at the notes, written in two different hands, and she saw they were in Amestrian as well.

Edward didn't look up as they approached, glaring furiously at a passage in a book he held in front of him. Even when they stood right next to the table, practically looming over him, he still looked through the book, muttering under his breath.

"Hey, Ed."

Edward reached for a quill, quickly scratching out an astonishingly perfect alchemical sigil. Hermione had never seen a perfect circle drawn in real life before.

Harry tried again, "Hey, Ed?"

"Hey, Elric, you in there?"

Still no response. This was getting silly.

Hermione drew her wand, and levitated the pages up out of reach. Finally he looked up.

"What you want?" He looked at Hermione, saw her directing his various research materials, and absolutely _glared_ at her. "Give those back."

"Calm down, Edward. We just have a few questions for you," Hermione said. "Once they're answered, I'm sure we can leave you to your studies."

/

So apparently, I've been spelling the Russian word for Ed's title wrong this whole time. A kind Russian speaker informed me that I have been calling him "Slimy" every time I used 'Sal'noy' instead of 'Stal'noy'. So I have to go back and fix that. Such are the trials of someone writing in a language she doesn't know. But I do appreciate people pointing out such mistakes. (Special shoutout to Amelia Loves Anime who pointed out I have a bit of a time warp mistake last chapter. I thought I had caught it but... nope! I WILL fix that!)

I was also asked by someone why Ed's accent would get thicker- if you speak a language that's not your birth language, if you're tired, upset, sick, or what have you, concentrating on making all the proper sounds and doing all the proper grammar becomes harder than usual.

As always, you can find me at BuffPidgey on tumblr, and there you can ask questions and get answers RIGHT AWAY instead of waiting for the next update! You might also get hints on what else I'm cooking up.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's note:So... the last 6 weeks have just been life screwing with me in the most unbelievable way. Some things? Very very good! (I am Employed now!) Some things... no. Too recent to talk about.

I'm still chugging along with this fic, and hopefully I'll get myself a nice buffer again. Wouldn't that be nice? Remember when I used to update twice a month? A girl can dream at least...

So anyway, we all remember that, in Hogwarts, Ed is 100% without any of his support system, right? Al is thousands of miles away and so are the Rockbells... I'm sure that kind of thing will never have any detrimental affects on his health or anything.

Chapter Warnings: Ed's negative self-esteem hits full force this chapter.

/

/

Ed did not have time for this. The briefing had said these kids were nosy, but holy shit this was annoying. He had been in the middle of stitching together key ideas from Marcoh's notes, and it was all about to make sense, Ed was sure of it, and Hermione had just magically stolen all his research.

"How about you let me finish important work, and then I answer maybe your questions. If they are not stupid." Not his best English, or his best manners, but dammit, this was _important_. He had to do this, for Al.

All three of them frowned at the same time. Impressive, but it wasn't the first time he had been frowned at in concert.

"How about no?" Harry said. "Hermione could just set all this on fire, and then you could answer our questions anyway."

"If you burn my notes," Ed said as he rose from his chair, "I will never answer any of your questions. This, I promise." He locked eyes with Harry. He might be the kid's bodyguard, but you didn't need to be friends with who you were guarding. He knew that from recent experience.

Harry glared back, defiant.

Ron stepped forward, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. He didn't pull his friend back, but he wasn't advancing on Ed, either. He gestured up at the notes Hermione had captured in her spell. "How about we arrange a trade?" he asked. "One page of notes for one honestly answered question."

"If I cannot answer a question, you choose a different one, and then I get the notes back."

"Why wouldn't you be able to answer a question?" Harry shot back.

"Because," Ed told him slowly, "Maybe I do not have all the answers. Maybe I cannot tell you because of country secrets. Maybe this question should not be said in the middle of the library for people to hear. But I say you can ask another question, and then I answer that one, and you GIVE ME THE PAPER BACK."

There was a dark part of Ed that was secretly pleased when all three kids stepped back at his vehemence. They tried to regain composure by checking how many pages Hermione had stolen from him. Only seven, thankfully.

Hermione reached up and grabbed one of the pages, bringing it out of the hold of her spell. "First question," she said. "I think we would all like to know why you were with Umbridge last night."

"What? How do you know that?"

"We _saw_ you with her, when she barged in on Hagrid in his cabin!" Harry hissed.

Ed frowned, thinking back to last night. Umbridge had insisted she show him one of the 'dangerous half-breeds' the Ministry was hoping to 'purge' from Hogwarts. Hagrid had been impressively tall, and, although he looked like he had just come out the worse in a fight, didn't seem all that dangerous. But that visit had been late enough that no students had been in the halls, and he hadn't seen anyone else in the hut besides Hagrid, so, "How did you see I was there?"

"We're asking the questions here," Ron informed him. He sounded so smug Ed wanted to punch him.

"Umbridge asked me to come meet the new teacher," Ed told them. The briefing had indicated that these kids were very fond of Hagrid. They wouldn't like the way Umbridge talked about him at all. He held his hand out. "Paper, now."

"Does that even count as an answer?" Harry looked between him and Hermione, glaring.

Hermione sighed. "We didn't negotiate a word count for the answers." She handed him the page.

This time, Harry reached up and plucked a page from the levitating cloud of paper. "Then, why did Umbridge ask _you_ to go meet Hagrid last night?

"Because she thinks I answer to the Ministry and to her, not to Amestris." A carefully worded answer here, because they were in the middle of the library. It was morning, and the library was usually empty in the morning, but _usually_ 12 year olds don't become State Alchemists.

When Harry hesitated, Ed once again held out his hand. Reluctantly, Harry handed the page over.

Ron plucked a page from the cloud, and looked it over, taking a moment to think of his question, Ed assumed. Not that the boy could read Amestrian. Finally, he asked, "What exactly do you think working with Umbridge will accomplish?"

That question was – how did Ron want him to answer that question? If he said out loud "I want her discredited and fired," that was setting them all up for trouble if someone discovered they were plotting against an official. Then again, it seemed that many of these wizards wouldn't know subtlety if it bit them in the ass, so it was likely that if he phrased things _too_ delicately, these kids wouldn't get it.

"I want her…" Ed began, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "to serve as teacher… as… quietly as she can."

Harry was openly glaring at him now. Ed had a feeling that he didn't understand what Ed was trying to say at all. Which, Ed supposed, wasn't his problem. It was Harry's. Ron had a look of utter concentration on his face as he handed over his page, and Hermione was watching him with the strangest look on her face, which vanished before Ed could decipher it as she pulled the fourth page from the grip of her spell.

"What is 'human transmutation'?"

All the air left Ed's lungs. Shadows scrabbled at the edges of his mind, memories, predictions. He forced them back with the strength born of practice. Hermione needed attention.

She had mentioned reading alchemy texts, hadn't they covered it? He thought back over the wizarding world's pathetic offerings that he had come across and – no. Only a few of them even touched on the subject, and those were all kept in Grimmauld Place.

"Human transmutation is the use of alchemy to bring a human back to life. Or," he added quietly, "on a human soul."

"But nothing can truly bring a person back to life," Hermione said, sounding almost confused.

Ed snatched his notes out of her hand. "There is reason it is taboo."

Harry grabbed one of the last three pages. "Is the taboo the reason someone is trying to kill you?" he asked.

What?

"What?"

"Back at – during the summer, Mustang said this guy tried to kill you, that he'd gotten close. Does it have anything to do with this human transmutation stuff?"

"It –" Ed started, then stopped. Harry must be talking about Scar. He hadn't thought about Scar in months. How were these kids even aware of him? Mustang was an ass, but he wouldn't talk about things like that with these sheltered kids. They kept knowing things they shouldn't. What kind of magic were they using to find this information?

Exchange or no exchange, Ed wasn't about to lay out his life so these kids could find the link between his stupid mistakes and his joining the military, no way in hell. And Scar's quest for vengeance against the State Alchemists was an entire history lesson that none of them had time for.

"Choose another question," he ground out, his voice sounding more strained than he had expected.

"Can you tell us anything about why this guy is trying to kill you?" Harry asked. "Or is that top secret too."

"He is trying to kill me because of… my job, back in Amestris."

Clearly unsatisfied with the answer, Harry handed over the fifth page of notes.

Ron grabbed the sixth page. "What does your… job have to do with that guy?"

"I will not answer that, because if you ask later I can give you a lesson on Amestrian history and you will understand," Ed said. "We do not have time to explain politics here. Try again."

There was a long pause. "Did you have any hand in getting McGonagall to watch Harry's detentions?"

That… was a surprise. Ed would have guessed Weasley would have asked – well, Ed's not sure what he would have guessed. Another half-cocked attempt to pry into the darkest parts of his past, maybe. This was, Ed thought, Ron's way of trying to confirm his loyalty.

In Ed's opinion, it was a waste of a question. He thought he had been almost too obvious when trying to arrange it, but if even all his running around hadn't tipped his hand, maybe he had a little more leeway than he thought he did, if the three people who he spent the most time with were still unsure about that.

And, Ed realized, that if they were still unsure about it, his answer might not even clear things up, but really, he couldn't be blamed for being questioned in a public space.

"I only mention to Professor that if there is Ministry here, then it would be _very_ _good_ to see how she think to punish students," he said.

"I see," Ron said.

Only one page left, and Harry grabbed that one. He stared into Ed's eyes, as though he could glare his way into seeing the truth. "Is there anything you know about the Order, or Voldemort that you haven't told me?"

"No," Ed told him, meeting his gaze. This answer was easy enough. "I think now you know more than I do. I am only just coming here, to this whole mess. You have lived it."

He took the page from Harry, more gently than he had some of the previous pages.

"And I think if I do know something, I will tell you." He smirked. "I hear you and your friends chase answers, and it makes much trouble for everyone else. I have enough trouble."

"Oh, er," Harry said, taken aback, it seemed, by some form of honest communication from someone who wasn't one of his best friends. "Right."

Ed flapped his hand at the group. "You have your answers, I have my notes. Maybe we do this again some time, but right now I am close to finishing this."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Is notes from another alchemist, but I must decode them. I am almost finished. Goodbye."

Ed turned back to his work, turning his focus back to Marcoh's notes. If the kids said anything more to him, he didn't notice.

/

Once it became obvious that Elric was ignoring them, they left the library. There really wasn't anything more to say. Hermione had that look on her face, the one where she wanted to talk at length about something, and Ron understood she was coming from. Some of the things Elric had said were worth discussing.

"We should head to the Room of Requirement," Hermione said.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Edward wasn't wrong to be weary of eavesdroppers. After all, we were overheard while we were in the Hog's Head."

They made their way to the Room, which gave Ron time to think.

Half the time Elric opened his mouth, he said things that made Ron think that the guy didn't care whether they lived or died. The other half, Elric seemed to be genuinely worried about their well-being, even down to watching out for being overheard. It made him hard to pin down, and that made Ron suspicious.

Not to mention… there was that odd feeling Elric gave him. Sometimes when he was near Elric, he was reminded strongly of Grimmauld Place, or Sirius Black.

He didn't think that Elric was interested in actually hurting Harry or anything, but Elric's methods were high-handed and he seemed to be a little too wrapped up in his own world to think about anyone else. There was so much going on that Ron figured the best strategy was to keep everyone as informed as possible. That Elric wasn't interested in really telling them anything was not helpful.

As soon as the door to the Room of Requirement closed behind them, leaving them all in a cozy room, filled with muffling drapes and three overstuffed armchairs, Hermione spun around and said, "If Edward really wants to contain Umbridge, he should probably start working on the Ministry."

Harry and Ron, too busy trying not to run into her, had no reply.

"Really," Hermione said, walking over to one of the armchairs, "That woman won't 'serve quietly' as a teacher here, unless her power is curtailed."

"Er, what?" Harry said. He made his way over to claim his own armchair.

Hermione sighed. Ron settled in the final open chair. It was soft, and slightly warm, like someone had cast a warming charm on it. Very nice.

"When Edward said he wanted Umbridge to serve her term as a teacher 'quietly'. I'm pretty sure he means he's trying to keep her from abusing her power. Somehow."

"He did say that he got McGonagall to step in," Harry pointed out.

"That doesn't mean it will keep working," Hermione argued. "The Ministry is the source of her power. Her connections are the reasons she thinks she can get away with all this!"

"Hermione," Ron cut in before Harry could answer. "Do you think human transmutation is anything like dark magic?"

Silence fell as both Hermione and Harry turned to look at him.

"Because he seemed to know a lot about it."

Harry frowned. "We know a lot about the Unforgiveables. That doesn't mean we've used them."

"I'm not saying he's done it, but – well – No, actually, I think he might have done something," Ron said. "There's this feeling a person gets when faced with Dark Magic, right? And sometimes, I get that feeling off Elric."

"What, like, Quirrel?" Harry asked, hand absently rubbing at his scar.

"Sort of, but not all of us have magic scars," Ron pointed out. "It's kind of like how some rooms in Grimmauld Place seem colder, or you think there are more shadows than there ought to be, but from… a person." He wasn't explaining this very well, he thought. That was a horrible comparison.

But Harry and Hermione seemed thoughtful, though in different ways. Harry was still frowning, while Hermione seemed to be trying to put some kind of puzzle together in her mind.

"Does this mean we can't trust Ed?" Harry asked.

"I –" That's what this all came down to, in the end, wasn't it? At the end of the day, would Elric have their backs against Death Eaters? Or the Ministry? "I'm not sure."

/

They didn't see much of Ed the rest of that weekend. He drifted in and out of the Gryffindor Common Rooms, but Harry never saw him in the dorms, or the Great Hall during meals. But, there was homework to do, and Hagrid to worry about, and quidditch to think about, and that took up a lot of Harry's time.

He tried to avoid thinking about how trustworthy Ed actually was. That he might have done some Dark-sounding magic or transmutation or whatever was concerning. Why would the Order let someone Dark be his bodyguard? Sirius hadn't seemed too bothered by Ed or by Mustang, but Sirius lived in Grimmauld Place. He might have gone numb to that Dark feeling.

In the end, it was easier to focus on things he could do something about. If he ended up not speaking to Ed until midday Monday, that was just an unpredicted outcome.

Ed followed them from Herbology to the Great Hall for lunch. He sat himself next to Harry, but instead of grabbing things to put on his plate, as he usually did, he simply sat and stared at his plate. All morning he had kept up this oddly listless behavior.

"Edward, you look awful," Hermione told him, bluntly. "You should eat something, or drink. When was the last time you slept?"

The only response Hermione got was Ed slowly raising his head to look at her. Otherwise, he didn't move.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

This tense silence caught Ron's attention, and he looked over from his own plate, which mirrored how Ed's would have looked, if this had been a normal day. "What happened to you?"

Ed shivered, a tremor going down his body from head to toe, and seemed to pull himself from whatever trance he had been in. "I am fine," he said. His accent was thicker, the 'f' landing so hard it was almost its own syllable. "I find… bad end in research.".

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, and Harry looked over to see Ron was watching in concern; Ed's English was much better than it had been in the summer, these days. To see him lapse into weird pronunciation like this when he wasn't furious was disconcerting.

"Elric, have you slept at all since Friday?" Ron asked.

Ed looked at him as if it were Ron speaking the foreign language.

"I haven't seen you come up to the dorm since then."

"He hasn't been here at mealtimes, either," Hermione realized. "He didn't even eat anything at breakfast." She wasn't looking at Ed anymore, instead speaking directly to Harry and Ron. Ed didn't seem to notice anyone was talking over him. Or if he did, he didn't seem to care.

"Should we take him to Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked. "If it's just that he hasn't been eating or sleeping, then if he eats, he should be fine."

But Hermione shook her head. "If he is that dehydrated, he might need more than that. What if he passes out? He could hit his head!"

Harry was reluctant to go all the way to Madam Pomfrey and bother her with something that sounded like it could be fixed if they just convinced Ed to drink some pumpkin juice and eat some mashed potatoes, but when Ron started nodding along to Hermione's points, he decided to go along with it. Especially since he was already standing, and grabbing a few scones for the road. So Harry stood, and grabbed at Ed's arm, pulling him up.

Ed jerked out of Harry's grasp, but stood, so Harry didn't try to grab him again, just gestured that he should follow. He did, but in a vague way that meant that Harry and Hermione had to flank him to reassure themselves that he was moving, while Ron led the way to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrow as she saw them come through her door once more, but lowered it again when she saw Ed. Hermione filled the mediwitch in on what they suspected was wrong with Ed as Madam Pomfrey hustled him to sit on a bed. She waved her wand over him, then placed it on his temple for a few moments, before inspecting the orange light shining on its tip.

"You may be right, Miss Granger," she said, frowning at her wand. "He certainly is quite dehydrated, and he clearly hasn't eaten in a while. I'll see what I can do for him, but you and the boys best run along now."

When none of them looked inclined to move, she settled her fists on her hips and frowned at them. "You lot run off to lunch now, I'll thank you not to end up in the same state as Mr. Elric. And you'd best attend your afternoon classes as well!"

That scolding finally sent them out the door.

/

Human lives.

Live humans.

Actual human beings.

That was what the philosopher's stone required.

The way that Al was supposed to get his body back – No – He couldn't, not again, couldn't bring Al into something like that.

Ed's thoughts swirled in dark currents as he sat in what might have been the Hospital Wing. He had followed Harry and his friends up here, but Madam Pomfrey had kicked them out. Ed didn't know why. When they had been speaking, it had seemed to come from far, far away.

He should try to follow them. It was his job to keep Harry safe, that was why he was here, after all. He should at least try. But, he was sitting down, and his head felt so heavy and he was so _tired_.

They had come so far, fought against so much, and now, to have to deal with this, how was he going to tell Al –

A faint light flared in the corner of Ed's eye, and he turned to look at it, but had to close his eyes against the wave of dizziness that struck him. He had been dizzy on the way to breakfast, and on the way here. Just another layer of his failure, another thing he couldn't manage –

"My, my, Mr. Elric, you're quite dehydrated!" A woman's voice, Madam Pomfrey's voice.

She seemed disappointed in him.

It's ok, he wanted to tell her. He was disappointed in him too.

"Have you had anything to drink in the last two days?"

Ed didn't know, so he stayed silent.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. She turned to the tray. When she turned back, she held a glass of water.

"Drink," she ordered.

He did so. The water was like a breath of cool air in the desert.

"Well, it's a start, at least," Madam Pomfrey said.

/

Ed didn't join them for classes for the rest of the day, prompting Hermione to lead the boys to the Hospital Wing to check on him. Madam Pomfrey said he was dehydrated, and he seemed to not have eaten recently, but couldn't find anything else wrong with him.

"Maybe you lot can talk some sense into him," she had said before leaving them to visit.

Ed was laying in the bed, glaring at the ceiling as if it had called him short. He hadn't yet acknowledged their presence in any way.

"Oi, are you in there?" Ron said.

"Ronald!"

Ron threw up his hands. "We have to get his attention somehow!"

While it was true, Harry supposed, that answer did not satisfy Hermione. "Honestly, if he's upset, he doesn't need you blurting out whatever comes into your head!"

"It's better than saying nothing and fretting silently," Ron retorted.

The bickering devolved from there. Harry had a feeling that Ron and Hermione weren't actually mad at each other, but were worried about how suddenly Ed had gotten ill. It was understandable; Ed seemed to have gone from prickly shadow to actual shade over the weekend, and Madam Pomfrey hadn't cured it yet.

He looked down at Ed, whose gaze seemed to be meeting some far distant point on the horizon, even though he was indoors. Then, his gaze traveled to the foot of the bed, and to the gap between the little hills of Ed's feet and the end of the bed.

"I'm just going to sit here," Harry said, quietly, but still clearly enough to be easily heard. "There's a lot of space down here at the foot of the bed."

A full-body shudder worked its way down from the top of Ed's head, and he turned his sight from that unknown point and glared right at Harry.

"You are saying I am short?"

Harry allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction. "I'm not saying anything like that, just that I can sit here, since there's room."

"I am NOT small shrimp of a seedling!" Ed growled, pushing himself up on one elbow, and swiping at Harry with his fist. "You are the small one!"

Ron snorted, and Ed turned his glare to him, but didn't say anything more.

"But really, mate," Harry said, "What were you doing?"

"Madam Pomfrey said you haven't been eating!" Hermione added, earnestly.

Ed sighed, and looked away. He scratched at his right collarbone, fingers digging into his shirt. "I- am looking- was looking for… alchemy item. But I have discovered the answer, and it is impossible. It is… bad." The way he paused, Harry thought Ed might have wanted to use a worse word than that. "So everything I do for five years is – gone."

That was… Harry didn't know what that was. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but… "You stopped eating because you read something you didn't like?"

Now Ed looked like he really was going to hit him. "Is not just 'not like'," he hissed, throwing the sheet aside, stumbling to his stocking feet as he rounded on Harry. "Is five years of work, to fix biggest mistake. And I cannot go forward because I am stuck here! Alone!"

"You can look in the Hogwarts library-" Hermione started to say.

Ed spun to face her, slashing a hand through the air in negation. "No! Hogwarts library is no help! Has only basic and wrong books! No new information, is dead end."

Suddenly he seemed to run out of steam. Ed sat back on the bed, staring at his hands. Hands, Harry noticed, that were still gloved. "I have to tell Al," he whispered.

"Your brother is involved in your research?" Ron asked, a strange look on his face.

Before Ed had a chance to say anything, Madam Pomfrey stormed into view, a thunderous look on her face. "I let you in here so you might help him recover, not to upset him further!" She started ushering them towards the exit. As they left, they heard, "And you, young man! You are a patient, recovering here! What do you think you're doing getting into shouting matches?"

/

Despite the row, Hermione wanted to see Edward the next morning. He was her friend, and she wanted to see that he was making progress in getting his health back. She also wanted desperately to know what breakthrough in research had caused Edward to have such a reaction. Surely, it must be something on a grand scale.

To her shock, she saw Malfoy standing outside the Hospital Wing door, hands behind his back, the picture of patience. True, she was seeing more of Malfoy these days thanks to her… morning jogs… but that didn't mean she liked seeing him more than she truly needed to.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked.

"I could ask the same as you, Granger," he said. Despite his perfect posture, the edges of his collar were wet, and there were two spots of pink high on his cheekbones, as if he had rushed here after his shower.

Hermione decided that she wouldn't mention that; she had done precisely that after her laps. Instead, she said, "I am waiting to see a friend."

Malfoy raised one pale eyebrow. "Oh, have Potter or Weasley injured themselves already? Seems a bit early in the year."

"They're quite fine, thank you. How about your… shadows. Crabbe and Goyle haven't managed to accidentally hex their own ears off, have they?"

"They haven't done that since third year, as you well know," Malfoy informed her. "No, I heard a rumor that Elric was in the Hospital Wing. I am… merely seeing if it is true."

Hermione raised her own eyebrow this time. "You aren't here to ask for another hint, are you? I don't know if Edward would feel up to that. Though, if you insist, I'm sure I can step in."

"I don't need your help, Granger," he spat, unbothered mask slipping. "As if you can act all high and mighty. You haven't made any progress on this 'one is all, all is one' riddle either."

As Malfoy's usual scowl once again pasted itself on his face, Hermione realized that that had been the longest civil conversation she had ever had with any Slytherin.

The door opened, and Madam Pomfrey looked between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin waiting for her. "You haven't hexed each other, I hope. It is much too early for foolish duels in the halls."

"No, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione told her. "I'm here to see Edward again."

Madam Pomfrey relaxed. "Good, good. Why children think it's important to hex each others' toes off I'll never know," she said, moving back to let Hermione and Malfoy to enter, and gesturing to follow. "But, I do have good news for you, Miss Granger. Your friend will be released today once he finishes his breakfast. It seems your visit wasn't a complete disaster."

True to her word, Edward was sitting up, making steady progress on a large plate of scrambled eggs. Hermione could hear Madam Pomfrey questioning Malfoy behind her, but she ignored his answer, instead making her way to Edward's bedside. He didn't look up from his eggs, but Hermione hadn't expected him to.

"It's good to see you've come back to yourself," she told him.

Edward paused long enough to shrug and say, "If I stop, my brother will be upset. He might tell our teacher." He shuddered at that, then went back to his eggs.

She had heard few things about Ed's former teacher, but Hermione was starting to form an understanding of why that prospect might be… unpleasant.

"Elric," Malfoy's snide voice cut in before Hermione had a chance to say anything more, "the rumor mill had you swooning in the Great Hall of some vicious illness. I see that's not true."

"Was not _sick_ ," Edward replied around his eggs. "Was… stupid." Then he put down his knife and fork, giving both of them a long, searching look. "You have been running, yes?"

"Of course," scoffed Malfoy. "I would hardly neglect-"

"Do you have answer for me?"

Malfoy's mouth snapped shut.

"Then I will eat. You will go to classes."

Thankfully, Malfoy turned and left, leaving Hermione able to talk to Edward alone. "I do think-"

"I mean you, too," Edward said, turning back to his eggs. "I will find you and Harry for class, yes. Go now."

She wanted to argue, but Madam Pomfrey was making her way towards them. It seemed Malfoy had told her about Edward wanting to be alone so that she would be evicted from the Hospital Wing as well. Prick.

She was sorely tempted to drop some dandelion seeds into his potion during class. She didn't, but oh she thought about it.

/

/

Final notes: I'm sure I had other things to say right now, but right now I'm learning how to do peoples' taxes. (Hint: Taxes are just lots of flow charts. Just so many flow charts.)

If you guys wanna chat or anything, please come say Hi on my tumblr buffpidgey dot tumblr dot com. I need to make a meta/theory post about a head canon that I've mentioned in this fic, but will very soon play a huge role in the story. It'll be great guys.


	14. Chapter 14

I ATE'NT DEAD

Life is just. A lot, you guys. It's SO much. At least I have two very cute kitties now!

I've had some high-stakes practice tests because I'm going to be thrown into the high-stakes work of Being A Manager at an IRS-certified VITA tax site, in a program that helps ppl do their taxes for free.

I've been hit HARD with a head cold so vicious that I lost my voice for 3 solid days, and even now my voice is still not back to normal (can't sing at all yet)

My wonderful beta viscountfrancisbacon finally convinced me to read Girl Genius and I shotgunned it while I was sick and it's amazing.

Don't worry though, AYSTIAGI is still alive, I'm still kicking, and it WILL be finished!

 **Chapter warnings** : Draco's personal politics, what happens to Harry when Nagini bit Mr. Weasley, and Sirius has Some Issues carried for a long time that are exacerbated by Azkaban and Grimmauld Place.

...XxX...

Draco glared at the giant squid as it lazily chased the moon's reflection across the lake. That great lump had no idea at all about how hard life could be. How quickly your opportunities could slip through your fingers.

Five days.

He had five days left to try and figure out what Elric meant when he said "all is one, and one is all". It wasn't easy, and asking for help had landed him face down in the dirt with Granger smirking at him.

It had been humiliating. Elric hadn't even used magic or alchemy to fell him. Draco chucked a stone, scattering the ripples the squid had been sending to the shore into a mess of lines. Sneaking out at night for extra laps hadn't been helping, and he had only five days to come up with the correct answer.

If he couldn't, Draco didn't like his chances for a do-over if a hint had gotten him a kick in the stomach. Elric didn't care about things like pride, or the proper way of doing things. Elric had struck him down as if he were nothing.

He gave a mudblood the same chance as a pureblood from one of the greatest wizarding houses in Britain, like blood wasn't important. Like magical tradition wasn't important.

In the lake, the giant squid chased moonlight, ignorant of all those things.

Draco had started sneaking out at night in order to see if more running would help him find the answer. So far, all it had gotten him was a few close calls from Filch and Mrs. Norris. He stared at the small waves that threatened his shoes, and thought about how the squid didn't care about any of it.

/

Hermione watched the last dying embers glow in the hearth. Alone in the common room, she set down her book and thought about what Edward had said. For a week, she had felt on the edge of… something. An answer, perhaps. Now, though, she could almost see it in the smoky flicker in the hearth.

As the fire died in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione thought about what she had learned in her astronomy books years ago. About stars, about elements, about the carbon in her bones that came from a dying star. About how a tree planted over a grave could bring the carbon in her bones to life once again.

/

Thirty days after he had given the task, Ed stood at the castle steps and watched his two wanna-be students run what he hoped would be their final set of laps. Not that he would give them more laps to run if they failed – on the contrary, if they failed he'd happily write them off, and they could run or not on their own time. If they did have an answer for him, however…

He stood on the wide granite steps, corners rounded with age, arms crossed. Hermione and Malfoy stood in front of him, panting, but they hadn't passed out like on the first day. They didn't even look particularly out of breath. It was good to know that wizards weren't completely incapable of physical training.

"One is all, all is one. You have answer for me?"

The steam rose off the lake, casting strange half-shadows in the watery light of the cloudy sunrise. Without looking at each other, the two kids before him nodded in unison. Ed gestured for them to answer. Instead of speaking, they started trying to surreptitiously eye each other as the silence lost any feeling of formality devolved into the itch of petty rivalry. With a sigh, Ed realized he would have to get each answer separately

After about ten minutes of trudging back and forth across the Hogwarts lawn, Ed realized that he did, in fact, now have two alchemy students.

His first official act as a teacher was deciding that it was too early to be a teacher. He turned and headed for the Great Hall. Breakfast was really the only sensible thing to do.

/

When Ron got to the Great Hall, there was a ring formed around one end of the Gryffindor table. He could hear shouting inside, and as he drew nearer, he realized that shouting was familiar.

"- solved the riddle, so of course I am!" Hermione was saying as Ron finally pushed his way through the ring of curious students. She was standing on one side of the hunched figure of Elric, fists clenched, glaring death at Draco Malfoy, who was on the other side, head tilted up in the way that made it look like he was trying to point his nostrils at you. Between them, Elric seated, hunched over, trying to get breakfast in under this row.

"Really, someone like _you_ should be able to graciously accept the pity thrown her way," Malfoy said with a sneer. "I know muggles aren't particularly versed in manners, but I should think generosity is something you of all people should be acquainted with."

Ron stomped forward. "Oi!" he shouted, hand wrapped around his wand. That was going too far.

Before he could do anything, Elric's hand shot out and clamped down on Malfoy's upper arm. Ron couldn't see his face, but it must have been fierce; Malfoy blanched.

Elric stabbed his knife into the uncut loaf of bread, and said, "I think maybe hunger is making you not think so good. Go sit, before a teacher must do something."

After a moment that was stretched taut with anticipation, Malfoy shook off the hand. He turned to go. The group of older Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were either openly staring or arguing about homework didn't seem too inclined to move out of his way, so Malfoy's dramatic exit was replaced by undignified shuffling as he tried to make his way through a crowd that no longer really cared what he was doing.

Ron made his way to Hermione's side. "What was that all about?"

"He's upset that I solved the riddle too."

"Prat."

"Exactly."

/

The final D.A. meeting before winter holidays once again involved running, though as a holiday treat Ed wasn't chasing them with threats of bodily harm. After Hermione and Malfoy had convinced him to teach them alchemy, he was much more interested in teaching the physical self-defense parts of the D.A., probably because teaching made him realize how much he liked watching people suffer. Hermione had been agonizing over drawing circles and whole new lists of complicated formulas to memorize, and now Harry was agonizing over the fact that Hermione could run that much faster than him.

She didn't even do quidditch! It was kind of demoralizing.

After that warm-up, Harry had the group pair up to practice some of the spells they had gone over; starting something new just before holidays would have been a waste of time.

Ed had decided he wanted to practice today, and had paired up with Luna. Somehow, the two got along quite well; yet another odd ability of Luna's. Her odd take on the world should have been completely incompatible with Ed's laser focus, but before D.A., Ed and Luna often chatted over some article in a copy of the Quibbler that Luna would bring with her.

Even outside of the D.A. Ed would seek her out; sometimes between classes Ed would insist on taking a diverted route that would lead them past Luna's class. Harry suspected the reason behind these detours when Luna mentioned that this year her stuff was going missing at a much lower rate.

Today, it seemed their chat from before the meeting was interesting enough to continue, since they weren't sparring. Harry wandered over, curious as to what would hold Ed's attention in the face of potentially getting to punch something.

He almost immediately regretted it when he discovered Luna giving Ed a breezy explanation of just how many simple first and second year spells could be used in ways that sounded like they should be illegal. On his part, Ed didn't seem worried about this at all, which made Harry feel all the more worried. It was one thing if Ed wanted to keep Luna from getting bullied, it was quite another if Luna was giving Ed… ideas.

Maybe he should have done something about it, but it was almost break, so Harry walked away and furiously pretended he hadn't heard anything.

/

There were nights Ed knew he wasn't going to get any sleep. Nights that were dark enough to remind him of a quiet basement, nights cold enough to send chilly breezes biting into the cold metal embedded in his skin. Nights where he just plain couldn't sleep because five teenage boys snore. A lot.

So he was awake when Harry started muttering.

That wasn't strange; Ed was familiar by now with Harry's nightmares. After what the kid went through, it was only natural that he'd have some. But this one… seemed different.

Harry's muttering wasn't upset, didn't have that edge of caution to it. He shifted like he was in the middle of a nightmare, but his muttering was businesslike. As the dream deepened, the hairs on the back of Ed's neck stood on end, and he shuddered as a sickeningly familiar sensation swept over him. It was a feeling he should know well, after all he carried it in his own bones.

The feeling strengthened as Harry's muttering changed from business like to a shocked hiss – so strong Ed thought he might gag –

He opened the curtains around his four-poster bed that had been drawn for the night, forcing himself to act, pushing through the feeling of _wrongness_. He'd done so before, when he was younger, and this wasn't- this couldn't be actual human transmutation.

Ed saw in the scant light of the room Ron and Neville trying to shake Harry awake without much luck. Then, Harry surged upright, and the feeling of taboo almost… tore. It wasn't gone, not completely, but it was fading fast, the drastic change pulling Ed's attention away from the upset voices until Harry bent over the side of his bed and threw up, one hand clutching at his scar.

"Harry, you're all right, you're all right," Ron said, gently guiding Harry back so he wouldn't overbalance onto the floor. Neville stepped back, away from the bed.

Ed pushed himself out of his own bed, making his way over as Harry said, "I did it, I – there was a man. Ron, Ron, you Dad, there's been an attack – he's bleeding, I don't know –"

He was still clutching his scar in one hand, and Ed could see the way his eyes darted, back and forth, not really focusing. Ron's tactic of saying that it was only a dream might have worked in the past, but Ed could see Harry panicking, not really listening.

"Harry, listen, Harry look at me," he said, grabbing the kid, holding his shoulder tightly. "Look at my face."

Harry's wild eyes didn't settle, but he was looking towards Ed, so he'd take that. Under his glove, under Harry's pajama shirt, Ed could feel… something. Something besides the tremors from adrenaline. It likely had something to do with the feeling of taboo that had been choking the air earlier, but now was not the time for that.

"Listen to me, Harry. You are in Gryffindor Tower."

"Yes, yes, I know," Harry snapped. "I –"

"Good," Ed cut him off. "Good you know that. Do not say any else. You will first take breath –"

Before he could finish, the door swung open to reveal Minerva McGonagall with a worried-looking but determined Neville in her shadow.

After that, things moved very quickly, and Ed was abruptly in the Headmaster's office with Harry and Ron. He wasn't sure how McGonagall justified that, he hadn't been paying attention. He was paying attention now, though. The old man's study was full of fiddly toys that bobbed back and forth, or gently steamed. The desks and tables glittered and gleamed, but Ed was more concerned with the shadows on the shelves.

There were more books up here, more titles he hadn't read. He had been promised access to a good library. Maybe he could badger his way in here since the school library had been a bust. Dumbledore himself appeared quickly, serene and unruffled like he hadn't been pulled out of bed. His eyebrows rose above his spectacles, merely surveying the scene. Had the man been expecting something like this?

"Harry, from what perspective did you perceive the attack?" Dumbledore asked. "Your own? As an observer?"

Harry hesitated, eyes darting back and forth as he thought, then said, "No, sir, I was the snake."

The resigned look on the man's face made Ed pretty sure that Dumbledore had expected something like this. It also made Ed sure that he did not like the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

/

Harry's scar was no longer a blinding agony, but it still ached with the memory of pain as he stood in Dumbledore's office as the man talked around him. He pulled one of the many strange things from his desk, and tapped it with his wand. A sinuous line of smoke rose out of the small vase. It waved in the air, and Dumbledore watched it intently as it formed into a billowing snake.

"Yes, but is the essence divided?" he asked. The smoke split into two snakes, and one turned on the other.

As the smoke dissipated, Dumbledore looked past Harry, at Ed, and raised one eyebrow. Ed stared back with narrowed eyes, but didn't move. Dumbledore nodded brusquely, then sent off portraits in his office to sound the alarm.

Ed watched all of this with the same hard stare, and didn't even meet Harry's gaze.

The portraits reported back, even the one who had been troublesome, and Dumbledore made a portkey. They would all be traveling to Grimmauld Place together. Suddenly, Harry wanted nothing more than to see Sirius again, to talk to him about what had happened.

In third year, he had been told that Sirius Black was a fully grown wizard. Right now, Harry wanted a fully grown wizard around. Whether to protect him or to protect others from him, he didn't know.

Standing next to Ed, getting ready to touch the portkey, he suddenly flinched, hunching his shoulders, and leaning away from Harry. Before Harry could ask what he was doing, Dumbledore's robe swept into view and rage bubbled into his mind, washing away all other thoughts. He wanted to strike Dumbledore down, to destroy this wretched man. The anger swelled in his mind until the nauseating pull of the portkey fell away, taking the foreign emotion with it.

Harry heard a small thump, and distantly realized that Ed had fallen to his knees, one arm over his stomach. Dumbledore left without saying goodbye, and he seemed to take any feeling of reality Harry had with him. The dark halls of Grimmauld Place were so disconnected from Dumbledore's office, the feelings of hate, the dream… and next to him on the ground, Ed groaned.

"Portkeys are rough," Harry said, not entirely sure why. He offered a hand to the other boy on the ground.

Ed looked up into Harry's face, actually meeting Harry's gaze. He looked terrible, face scrunched up in obvious discomfort, but he looked Harry up and down, as if concerned. Once standing, he shook himself, his features smoothing out.

Then his hand shot out, and grabbed Harry's collar, dragging him down, so he was inches away from Ed's face. This close, Harry could see that Ed's eyes looked gold, even in the dim light, and his breath threatened to fog Harry's glasses.

Slowly, Ed raised his left hand and used his mouth to pull his glove off – right hand still gripping tight on the fabric of Harry's collar. Ed ran his fingers over Harry's forehead, brushing his bangs away, and Harry realized this was the first time he had seen the skin of Ed's hand.

It looked normal enough. Harry couldn't fathom why he would feel the need to keep them covered.

Cautiously, Ed traced his finger in a circle around Harry's scar. When he drew his finger away, the scar started prickling.

"What did you do?" Harry gasped, trying to jerk back, but Ed held him fast. The feeling wasn't painful, per say, but only one other person's touch had made his scar react at all.

Ed's expression of intense scrutiny twisted into a frown. Harry tried to move away from the displeasure he was radiating, and this time Ed let him stand up, though he still didn't let go.

"What happen when I do that?" he asked.

Harry rubbed at the scar, trying to make the feeling leave faster. "It tingles!"

"This scar you get from the Voldemort killing curse, yes?" Ed asked, ignoring Harry's own question. "This one hurts? When?"

"I don't know, when he touches me. And sometimes other times," Harry admitted. "Maybe when he's angry."

Ed rubbed the tips of his exposed fingers together, muttering. "Bastard. Bastard thing, bastard man, bastard bastard bastard." He shook his head. "So this is why –" He turned to look at Harry. "You, go. Eat chocolate, maybe."

He turned to leave the room.

"What are you going to do?"

"Write letter," he said without turning around.

The dismissal made Harry burn with an anger all his own. He banked it, wanting to keep that feeling. But Ed wasn't totally wrong. He had to go- to go make sure Mr. Weasley was all right. To see Sirius, to make sure he was all right. He had things to do, too.

/

Immediately after they had landed in Grimmauld Palace, Sirius had swept him into the kitchen, and sat him down with a mug of hot chocolate. He'd offered firewhiskey too, but Ron declined.

While other people ran around, talking urgently about his dad, and Harry lapsed into an anxious silence, Ron had watched. He had watched Harry sway, more taken out of him by this one weird dream than an entire quidditch match, it seemed. He had watched Elric flinch and lean away from Harry at odd moments, where Elric had never seemed to care before. He had watched Dumbledore make eye contact not with Harry, but with Elric, as though trying to confirm something about… about what Harry knew, or how Harry knew, or, something. Something that Dumbledore thought Elric would know, but not Harry.

Seeing the adults try and keep information from them was irritating. Seeing Elric keep information from them… it felt like betrayal, but Ron knew that's what Elric did.

The one good thing about it, though, was that Elric could be cornered.

Ron thought about that, turning the series of events over and over in his mind, as the cocoa cooled in his hands, trying not to think about what could be happening in the Department of Mysteries. He couldn't' DO anything about that, either they would get to Dad in time, or they wouldn't. But here, now, with Elric, he might be able to figure something out.

The plans beginning to form in his mind fled like birds when Harry stalked into the kitchen. He sat down across from Ron, not saying a word.

"Mate, you alright?" he asked. In the background, Ron could hear the twins and Ginny's voices rising in pitch as they hatched some plot or other.

Harry jerked, the movement almost a flinch as he looked at Ron. "I think I should be asking you that," he said.

Behind the door, Sirius's voice joined the group, displeased, trying to be reasonable.

On the table, the hot chocolate steamed gently. He should drink it. He wouldn't be able to taste it, but the idea of wasting food seemed worse. The mug stayed on the table.

Ron shook his head. "I… it won't make a difference, will it?" he asked. "There's nothing I can do right now, so I –"

"That's easy for you to say, stuck here!" Fred's voice cut through, interrupting. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

There was a brief moment, short and suspended, where everyone in earshot could feel just how much of a mistake Fred made. Ron was glad there was a door between him and Sirius when them man growled out his reply. Harry and Ron shared a glance that was half relief and half horror at the idea of being caught in that.

The door opened, and both boys froze as Sirius walked into the kitchen, rubbing his face and looking more worn out than Ron had ever seen. He took three strides, making for the wall covered in cupboards and shelves, then froze when he saw them. "Oh – hey boys," he said.

"Sirius." Harry's greeting was muted, reserved.

Sirius scanned the room, then frowned. "Where's Elric?" he asked.

Harry shrugged, gaze falling away from his godfather's face. "He asked a lot of weird questions, then said he had to go write a letter."

"He should be here," Sirius muttered, frown deepening.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"I-" Harry stopped, and glanced at Ron.

There wasn't much that Harry wouldn't say in front of him, Ron knew. They had been friends long enough that Ron probably knew more about Harry than anyone else alive. But if he didn't want to say whatever it was if Ron was there…

But Sirius shook his head. "If Voldemort is making some kind of move, then he might come after you." One hand went to the slim pocket sewn into the seam of his robes, but Sirius didn't actually draw his wand. "I- we can't always be around, Harry."

Harry said nothing in reply. Sirius's hand came up and made a strange hapless grabbing gesture. Then he sighed.

Whatever he was going to say next was lost in a burst of brilliant flame as Fawkes appeared, paper clutched in his talons.

/

There was something wrong with Sirius, on a fundamental level. Something he had slowly begun to remember once he had returned to Grimmauld Place, but tonight that understanding was undeniable. Arthur Weasley was laying in a St. Mungo's hospital bed, and Sirius felt more content than he had in weeks.

The entire time the Weasleys were wandering around the house, worrying, waiting, he had been able to talk to them, get them hot chocolate, _do_ something, and he had felt light, he had felt like he had purpose, he had felt _good_. What kind of sick, twisted being derived happiness from another's misfortune?

He shook his head, trying to dislodge useless self-deprecation. He was horrible. That wasn't new. He'd known that for ages, though he had been able to forget it for a while until James died.

Now he had to see about getting the kids breakfast, or something. It was too early in the morning to be awake, but it was too late to go back to sleep, so breakfast it was. Most everyone was huddled around the table already, but Elric had vanished into the room he had used over the summer and hadn't yet emerged.

If he was feeding everyone else, he might as well get Elric. He vaguely remembered that the kid had a ferocious appetite; he might be displeased with losing out on a meal.

He made to knock on Elric's door, footfalls on the stair shot alarm up his spine. Sirius spun, one hand clutching at the pocket where his wand was before seeing who it was.

"Harry," he breathed. "Weren't you going to wait for breakfast?"

Harry shrugged. "I – I needed to talk to you."

Tension pulled his shoulders tight, but this wasn't the fear of being attacked, this was the worry about properly fulfilling his duties. He had seen Harry so few times since – since he was a baby, and the kid still came to him for help. "About what?"

"If I was possessed, what would you do?"

The tension in his shoulders clawed its way down his spine as dread pooled in his stomach. Sirius did not want to contemplate the reasons Harry would have to ask that. As the heir of one of the oldest Dark families in Britain – if not the world – as a child Sirius had been introduced to things that families such as the Potters would never even name in their homes. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned any deeper details to him past what he had disclosed to the Order, but the dementors in Azkaban hadn't managed to take all his wits.

Harry asking about possession could mean a handful of things, and Sirius knew how useless he would be in the face of most of those answers. But, of all people, and of all times, Harry deserved an honest answer.

"It would depend on the type of possession."

"What does that mean?" Harry snapped, voice rising slightly. Sirius stifled the urge to wince.

The kid thought he was trying to dance around the question. True, he didn't at all relish the thought of having to kill his godson, but… "It means that there are a lot of Dark spells out there. Some of them are… reversible and some are not."

When Harry's shoulders relaxed, Sirius wondered if whatever was wrong with him was contagious. Harry shouldn't be relieved at that idea – or, it could just be Harry trusted him. Either way, Sirius knew he had messed up somehow.

It looked like Harry was about to ask Sirius to diagnose him. Sirius shook his head, saying, "Harry, I can't just go off and tell you what this _might_ be. That would be irresponsible." He knew how likely Harry and his friends would try… something if a solution weren't found right away. And giving his godson some half-assed idea about possession and letting him loose… not even Sirius was that stupid.

"Then what are you going to do about it?" Harry demanded, voice growing louder with every word. "Are you just going to have me sat here, in the dark, while everyone decides whether or not I'm a danger? You just want me to wait, and do nothing!"

The door to Elric's room swung open, a small breeze ruffling the sleeves of Sirius's robe. Silhouetted by the doorway, Elric glared up at them from the deep shadows in his room, cast by the single candle he'd lit.

"Yelling will do nothing," he said icily.

Harry rounded on him. "And you knew about this! When you did- whatever it was you did to my scar!"

"Wait!" Sirius barked. "What happened with your scar?"

He was ignored.

"I did not know, for sure. They say they ask for alchemist who – know things. I see if it is true!" Elric snapped back, advancing on Harry. He had changed from his school robes to the long-sleeved black shirt he had worn over the summer, Sirius noticed in a strangely detatched way. He jabbed one permanently-gloved finger in Harry's chest. "Is not _my_ fault they tell _you_ nothing!"

Harry slapped the hand away. "I thought we could be friends, but you don't tell me anything either! All you do is skulk about and get sad over your precious research!"

An expression flickered across Elric's face before all emotion fell away. His hand fell to his side. "You do not want to know my research," he said, voice as empty as his face. "Is not for you, anyway."

Sirius knew that was the wrong thing to say, even before Harry reared back, about to go do something that would start a fight. "Don't!" he snapped, grabbing Harry's arm.

The moment hung there, Elric motionless, Harry vibrating with emotion, and Sirius feeling like a fulcrum between two futures he didn't want to see.

"I think," he said, carefully lowering Harry's hand, "That we ought to move this discussion elsewhere."

...XxX...

So yeah, that all happened! We are now heading into some very fun stuff, imo.

Since I've been in this apartment, I've started acquiring more Pretty Notebooks, and I've been using them to outline fic. It actually helps? A lot?

Let's see how much outlining will improve next chapter.

As always, come ask questions, see what I'm up to, etc at buffpidgey on tumblr!


	15. Chapter 15

I yet live, so does this fic. I can't believe that I see the End in Sight. I also can't believe I have a concrete and badass plan for the sequel :3

After I do finish this fic, then I'll go back and change all the mistakes like my weird Russian- speaking of, I do have another Russian word in this chapter, so I'd love a head's up if google translate cheated me on that one.

 **Chapter Warnings** : Ed and Sirius's various issues in varying severities.

/

/

The room Sirius showed them to was dark, but not dusty; one of the rooms Mrs. Weasley had had them clean out over the summer, then. Sirius flicked his wand in his off hand sending a light through the air to the fireplace, his right hand still clamped firmly around Harry's shoulder. Harry couldn't bring himself care as dramatic shadows started to dance across the room. It felt warm.

"Right," Sirius said, gesturing to three lavishly carved chairs. "I think we need to sit down and discuss this rationally. A lot of things have happened tonight, and we're all running on very little sleep, and I think I should take a moment for all of us to remember what might happen if Molly Weasley finds out that I've let you two come to blows."

Harry flushed, glaring away at the corner of the fireplace. He was so tired of people keeping secrets from him, but he couldn't bring himself to make this time harder for Mrs. Weasley.

"So we need to start at the beginning," Sirius concluded. "Harry, if you would?" He gestured at the chairs.

Harry sat, glaring. "After we got here, Ed touched my scar and it started to tingle." It wasn't like _he_ had many actions that he had to account for. "And all he does is sulk with his books!"

Ed glared back, chin raised, and refused to take a seat. "I keep you safe, what do you care that I read?"

"I shouldn't care that you sit there and ignore us the whole time? I shouldn't care that the only help the Order gives me all year is a kid my age who doesn't give a damn about me?" Harry surged back up to his feet. "You were so caught up in your books you almost passed out in the bloody Great Hall! Over your precious books! What good were you then, eh? No good as a researcher, and no good as a bodyguard!"

Sirius was there, suddenly, a cool hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. His gaze, however, was directed at Ed. "I'm surprised to hear about your… bout of illness," he said in a deceptively mild tone. "It is somewhat worrying to learn about it tonight, instead of through any official reports. I trust you have made a full recovery?"

"I have."

"Then perhaps you would be willing to fill me in as to what this near-collapse was all about."

"It was not illness, it was… overlook. I made-"

"You didn't eat for like three days!" Harry shouted. He'd had it with Ed's evasions. "You read something and stopped eating! Madam Pomfrey said you were ridiculously dehydrated!"

Sirius frowned. "It wasn't a cursed book?"

"No!" Harry said, before Ed could answer. Ed glared at him, but Harry had built up too much momentum to care. "He told us he found something in his research, and he got so _sad_ he stopped eating! Over research! You're fifteen, what's so important, anyway?"

"I tell you, is not important for you!" Ed was still glaring, but instead of leaning forward, fists clenched and eyes flashing like Harry had expected, he crossed his arms, and slouched back into the armchair.

Instead of fighting back, Ed was sulking. Harry breathed in sharply, ready to tear into him, for telling lies, for keeping secrets, for _giving up_ -

A gentle squeeze on his shoulder stopped him. Sirius was looking across at Ed with a peculiar expression, like he was trying to remember something, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

"Something went wrong, I take it?" Sirius asked.

Ed didn't respond, just kept glaring, kept pouting.

"How Dark was it?" Sirius kept talking, like he expected an answer, hand still on Harry's shoulder. "That thing you found. I take it you're doing some rather important research if you won't tell anyone about it. Is it a state secret? Is someone threatening your family?"

Ed flinched in his chair like he'd been slapped.

"Is it your, ah, your commander then? Is that Mustang-"

"Not! He is- is not him, is not. Not a threat!" Ed sat up. "You think I am in threat? Think of your own! Is no wonder they send _me_ , when Harry is- is-" He waved his hand, in the way he sometimes did when trying to think of the right word in English.

"I'm _what_?" Harry hissed. "Why don't you just tell me? Why doesn't anybody just TELL me! All these secrets are about me, but I don't know anything!"

Ed leaned forward, almost falling out of his chair, and grabbed the arms, fingers almost vanishing into the stuffing. "I did not KNOW until TONIGHT!" he yelled. "You think I pull you around for fun? You think I keep secrets for fun? You think I agree with all? I am military _dog_! I need no other threat! I keep orders, or else!

"But!" Here, he paused, and stood. "You are stupid wish short sight, but you are not wrong." He stomped across the floor.

Before he was within arms reach, Sirius moved to block him, one arm out.

"I think it would be best if we all calmed down," he said. "Before someone does something we'll all regret."

Ed pulled back, looking between Sirius and Harry. Then he sighed, and rubbed at his forehead. "I was not moving to hurt anyone," he said, sounding much more calm. "Now I will show what I found."

Sirius looked back at Harry. Harry nodded.

"Show me."

/

Harry had agreed to keep Sirius in the room while Elric explained his discovery. Sirius was relieved. Harry's continued trust in him was one of the few things in his life that Sirius treasured, and maintaining that bond was one of the last things that still mattered to him.

"So, what have you discovered?" Harry asked, edge still in his voice.

Outburst over, Elric had composed himself quickly. He was all business now, despite what was, in Sirius's considerable estimation, a near-breakdown. "Something… alchemy does not have a word for. It is like Human Transmutation, but, maybe worse, I think. I did not think this can happen unless Human Transmutation happen."

Hearing that, Sirius's blood ran cold. He had a vague idea of what Human Transmutation was in alchemy. That there was something beyond that, and that had happened to Harry-

Elric pointed at Harry's scar. "Exact moment you get that, Voldemort died, yes?"

It hadn't exactly been a question, but, "That's what people say."

"So, when that happened, there became a connection. Not between mind, but I think maybe there is – ah, what is the word! Dusha- like – is like mind, but deeper? More?"

"D'you mean soul?" Harry asked.

"Yes! Soul!" Elric took no joy from figuring out the right word. His explanation continued, growing more detached as it went on. "Maybe there is a connection between Voldemort's soul and Harry now. In alchemy there must be a seal." He gestured towards Harry's scar. "That is not working as a seal for Amestrian alchemy, but this is English magic, and this is – I do not think this is transmutation."

"Are you saying a bit of Voldemort's _soul_ is stuck to me?" Harry cried, pushing himself up from his chair.

Sirius watched as though from a long distance away as Harry strode across the room to get face-to-face with Elric.

"You think Voldemort is in my head! And you didn't tell me!"

"I am telling you now!" Elric snapped, jumping to his feet, glaring up at Harry. "I did not know before, I know NOW and that is why I tell you!"

He should say something, but would the boys even hear it, far away as he was?

"So when Dumbledore and the Order lock me up I'll know why?"

"I am not here for your politics!"

He really needed to stop this.

"You're not here for _your_ politics, your research ended when you saw something you didn't like, what ARE you here for? Just go back to Amestris! I've faced Voldemort before and I've survived! I don't need a bodyguard who forgets to eat when he's _sad_!"

"I CAN'T! GO BACK! WHY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ORDERS?!"

The door slammed open, and Sirius turned just as the voice thundered, "WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE!?"

Mrs. Weasley stood there, looking as drained as Sirius felt. A voice that lurked in his head pointed out how unfair that was. Mrs. Weasley had been worried for her husband's life, while Sirius had stayed up making tea and failing to keep two fifth years from fighting.

Drained or not, Molly managed to get her second wind quickly. She strode into the room, Harry and Elric shrinking before her like snow before a fire. Standing imperiously in front of them, she folded her arms. "Well? I would like some answers."

To Sirius's surprise, it was Elric who folded first. He looked down, turned his head away and muttered, "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"I don't want sorry, I want an explanation! I come back here and you're at each others throats – there is a reason, is there not? Or do I have to ask Sirius." She made it sound like a threat. Sirius believed her; he had no interest in explaining why he sat there while two teenagers had a screaming row.

"No, Mrs. Weasley," Harry muttered. "My temper got the better of me. It won't happen again."

"I should hope not!"

"Very sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I also got too mad." Elric started edging towards the door. "I will go now and-"

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and Elric froze in his tracks. "I understand that tonight has been… hard. On all of us. That still doesn't excuse treating your friends poorly," she said, demeanor softening. "When things get rough, it's better to keep people who care about you close."

"I understand," Harry said. "I'll try and keep that in mind."

"See that you do."

Elric was still frozen where he'd stopped. He hadn't looked up yet.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Molly, if you're back, I take it you have news?"

"Oh, yes! Come to the kitchen, boys, I want to make sure everyone knows."

/

With everyone gone to visit Mr. Weasley at the hospital, Ed had thought he would be able to get through some of the letters Brown Akatsiya had brought to him in the last two days, but- no. Not everyone had gone to the hospital. Black was still in the house, trapped by the price on his head. Ed would have been willing to sympathize with his situation if the man wasn't at this moment leaning against the doorway to his room, and looking at him like they were about to share some kind of deep secret.

There were letters from Al, Winry, and his shithead commander, but there was no way Black was going to let him read in peace.

"Can I help you?"

"You know, I was going to open with a line about how maybe the Order might be able to help you," Black said, more casual than he had any right to be. "But, I think yes, you can."

Ed did not sigh and flop backwards in his chair, though he wanted to. "How am I to help?"

"I think it would help me to know why you feel like you've been dabbling in Dark magic," Black answered. His casual attitude hadn't left, but Black's gaze was direct and unwavering.

"Dark – I have not. I have only done magic in class and for homework. Why do you ask this?"

Black sighed, and finally stood up straight. "I grew up in one of the Darkest families in Britain, and then I spent years fighting against Dark magic, and then after _that_ , I spent thirteen years in hell on earth, surrounded by wizards and witches who had seeped themselves in the vilest spells they could find. Now I am once again living in the house I grew up in. A house, I might add, that has so much Dark shit in it I can almost _smell_ it."

There was a wand in Black's hand. Ed wasn't sure when that had happened, but he didn't like the way Black's knuckles had gone white around it.

"So when I ask you what Dark magic you've been doing, I would appreciate it if you stopped wasting your time, and mine, by lying to me. I can feel it on you!"

There was air in the room, nitrogen and oxygen and traces of other gasses, and yet Ed suddenly couldn't breathe. "You can feel it?"

There was a reason even third-rate hacks who doubted Ed's skill believed instantly that he'd committed the Taboo and survived. That feeling of what Ed had to assume was residue or resonance from the Gate could be felt by alchemists, even if they couldn't immediately understand.

That Sirius could feel it made sense. Things were different here in Britain, but even if they called themselves witches and wizards, these people were still practicing alchemy, of a sort.

"You're damn right I can! Now, tell me what you did, and why I shouldn't get Dumbledore to send you back to Amestris in chains."

Ed pushed himself up from his chair. He felt angry, his pride wounded by Black's accusations, but the feeling was far away. Mostly, he felt surrounded by a cotton layer of resignation. Telling this story again, facing judgment again – everyone seemed to think that they could condemn him more effectively than he could condemn himself.

"You think the Colonel does not know?" Ed asked.

Sirius's eyebrows quirked up. Not as shocked as he'd wanted, but more than nothing. This was a fine line he had to walk; if Sirius did try to contact the wrong people back in Amestris, Ed _would_ be sent home in chains, and if that happened, Al would be –

Well, none of that would happen. Not if he could help it.

"I should think a government wanting to aid in the defeat of Voldemort would be opposed to the Dark Arts," Sirius replied. "You know too much to have simply 'studied' something, even if you didn't have darkness in your bones."

"First, maybe think about if a government will listen to a man who killed thirteen innocent people."

Sirius hadn't put the wand away, but his grip had been loosening. Now, Ed could see the tendons in the man's hand again.

Ed jumped in before Sirius could say anything. "And second, if you send me away, there is no one to help. I know you want help to keep Harry alive, and I know you will want help with… what this is happened to Harry. Maybe you do not believe when I say I want to help Harry also, but do believe when I say that I am only one to be able to help."

"There are always people who want power," Black spat. Tense, but he hadn't advanced yet. "There are always people willing to practice the Dark Arts to see what they can gain. Money, political status, you know the type."

A memory flashed through Ed's mind, sharp and bright as a knife – a basement, the sound of rain – but he pushed it back. He felt as if every muscle in his body were clenched. Through gritted teeth he growled, "Maybe you are right, yes, but he is – he is dead. And even him – he could not do this. No one else in the military can do what I can, no one in the military knows what I know."

"And you? What type are you? What power did you need from the Dark Arts?"

"WE DID NOT WANT POWER!" Ed took a step forward. Black wanted to make this a fight? He would get a fight. "WE ONLY WANTED –" He took another step forward. His automail foot hit the floor, and pain like a jagged needle shot up his leg.

Ed crumpled. From the floor he could see the dusty ceiling and hear Black's footsteps in the background as the world seemed to fade away "We wanted only to see her smile again," he murmured to the ghosts in his head. "Only to see her smile."

/

When they came back from St. Mungo's, subdued from everything they had seen, Hermione had been hoping that Sirius would be able to help raise Harry's spirits. Or at least, perhaps, be there to greet them. When they finally found him he was half way through a very old bottle of wine, staring at an unlit fireplace.

It wasn't even lunch, but Hermione dearly wished this day were over.

Harry tried to get Sirius to explain the state he was in, but to no avail. Hermione couldn't see how she could help with this, so instead she decided she would go to ask Edward if he had any idea what had happened while they were gone. It was reasonable enough; he was the only other person in the house who had stayed behind (besides Kreacher). If something had happened he ought to know of it.

After checking the various libraries in the house, Hermione went to the next most likely place – Edward's bedroom.

Screaming when she saw Edward lying sprawled on the floor was perfectly logical, and there was absolutely no need for that scathing.

"What's the matter? Are you hurt?" she asked, kneeling at his side, looking him over, wondering if they would need to go back to St. Mungo's.

"Ugh." Edward pushed himself up, not looking as worried about lying on the floor as he probably should have been. "Don't worry about it, it was only a cramp in my leg."

"And how bad was this cramp if you still haven't stood up? Are you in pain?"

"It was – no, I am not – I was – I was thinking," he sputtered.

"You were thinking. On the floor."

"Yes." Edward still had not met her gaze, instead looking resolutely at his bed, which was almost three feet behind him. "It is not so bad a place to think."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well _I_ think you should stand up." She held out her hand, half expecting it to be ignored.

Instead, Edward reached forward, slowly, as if he expected her to rescind her offer. Under his glove, his hand was warm, and Hermione smiled as she pulled him up. The smile vanished as he took a few limping steps back to the chair at his desk.

He sighed as he sat, rubbing at his leg. "She will kill me," he muttered, a wistful smile almost edging around the words.

"Who will kill you?" Hermione had to ask. "And why?"

Edward whipped his head around to look at her, as if shocked someone else had heard him. "Ah- my – my friend. She says I do not take care of myself." He sighed, rubbing the top of his thigh. "Maybe this time she is right."

"Maybe she is. You certainly have a habit of skipping meals," Hermione told him, completely secure knowing that if _she_ skipped meals then the boys would bring her food. "Speaking of – have you eaten lunch yet?"

"… No."

"Well then, let's fix that."

/

Edward's owl was sitting on the dining table, and when she saw him imperiously held her leg out to be relieved of her burden.

Hermione watched as Edward read it, his eyes growing wider with every line until he yelled "YES!" and ran out of the kitchen.

He still hadn't eaten anything.

/

Nobody saw Elric after lunchtime, which Ron was pretty ok with. Dealing with weird spy bodyguard problems could wait until he was done dealing with any of the hospital-related things that had happened today. So he was kind of disappointed when he came down the stairs to see the guy lounging in his way.

"Oi!" Ron said, instead of kicking him the rest of the way down.

After a moment, when Elric hadn't moved, Ron reconsidered, and gave Elric's shoulder a solid shove with his sneaker.

Instead of actually falling face-first, like he would have if this year didn't exist just to crush Ron's dreams, Elric somehow rolled and maybe sprung off one of his arms and ended up landing on his feet. He glared up at Ron, and Ron glared back.

"What do you need?"

"Mostly for you to get off the stairs so people can get through." Ron told him, finally able to stand on a floor again. "What are you mooning at the door for, anyway?"

Elric squinted at him, arms folded. It wasn't quite a glare – Ron wasn't petty enough to ignore the facct that Elric had no actual aggression towards him – but he did seem to be weighing Ron, seeing if he measured up in some obscure way. But, he said, "I guess it is no real secret. People from Amestris will be coming here."

"Oh you mean that Colonel?"

"Bah, no." Elric flapped his hand dismissively and Ron remembered how over the summer Elric hadn't been exactly respectful towards Mustang. "Other people, better people."

"So you're waiting here. Now. What, are they coming tonight?"

Elric grinned, and Ron was taken aback. It wasn't a mischievous grin, it wasn't determined, it was an expression of actual happiness. In all the months he'd known Elric, the guy had never really seemed to be just happy, never let himself be actually excited about something. But now…

Well, it did make sense. If Ron hadn't seen any of his friends or family or even anyone who spoke English in months, he'd be eager too.

"So who –" Any further hints he might have gathered were cut off by an authoritative knock on the door.

"FILTH! SCUM! DEFILERS OF MY FAMILIE'S HOUSE!" Mrs. Black roared, already in fine form.

Her son roared right back. "WHO THE BLOODY HELL –" came Sirius's muffled yells from above. Ron could hear him stomping through the halls, coming to shut the curtains.

Elric completely ignored this, and threw the door open.

As the door swung open to reveal these new people, Ron had a short crystallized moment to wonder if bringing in unannounced foreigners was the best way to keep this place secret, before Elric launched himself across the threshold, and Sirius crashed into the foyer.

Sirius wrestled with the curtains, while Ron edged forward, trying to see who, exactly, Elric was bringing to Grimmauld Place. Before he could get past the door frame, Sirius grabbed his shoulder.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" he hissed, glaring past Ron at the open door, where Elric was whispering in animated Amestrian with three figures obscured by the night, who were all taller than him.

"Not sure, but I think Elric has some visitors," he said.

Sirius seemed to think that over. "I'm not explaining this to Molly," he finally declared.

/

In the end, Sirius didn't have to explain anything to Molly, because the very professional blonde woman in a blue uniform did hat. Her English wasn't as good as Elric's, but that was to be expected since she had never actually spoken to anyone from England before. Sirius was still terribly impressed, and also probably a little tipsy from the firewhiskey still.

As he looked at the new people in his family's house, Sirius decided he was definitely tipsy from the firewhiskey still, if not actually drunk. The woman in the blue uniform was normal enough. The girl sitting next to her, hair pulled back into a ponytail and large suitcases at her feet was normal too. The third figure was…

The third figure simply sitting in a chair floated memories of late nights in the halls of Hogwarts in front of Sirius's eyes, even as he sat in the serving kitchen.

Whoever it was with the high, youthful voice that echoed in the huge suit of armor spoke animatedly with Elric, who had launched himself at the person in an enthusiastic hug that had only been interrupted when the girl had tackled them both.

Sirius didn't want to deal with this. At all. He wasn't sober, memories of his childhood – of magic done at Hogwarts and magic done _at home_ – kept invading his thoughts, and he was pretty sure Elric hated him now.

Sirius didn't want to deal with this, but, he didn't truly want Molly dealing with this either. The woman had almost lost her husband in the last 24 hours, and Merlin knew how much she had actually slept in that time. She'd been dealing with life-shattering issues, while Sirius had been sulking in his house.

A quiet chuckle crawled its way out of his throat. The first chance he gets to actually do something for the Order and he immediately wants to hand it off to Molly Weasley who has just spent the day in St. Mungo's after her husband was brutally attacked and almost died so he can go off and drink.

If that was how he reacted to new circumstances these days, maybe it was for the best that he was locked up in this house. No telling what damage he could do out there.

Sirius threw back the last of his glass of water and shook his head. Maybe he was a disaster, but he could at least deal with introductions. No use throwing himself into despair when things hadn't actually developed into a shambles yet. Time to get moving.

/

Winry would be the first one to admit she didn't understand alchemy, and after tonight, she was kind of glad. If travel by alchemy was that terrible, she was perfectly content to stay away from it. However, she had to admit that it was a lot faster. This way, she would be able to make sure Ed was taking care of her beautiful automail all the sooner.

It would be a relief to Al, too. These last few months had been hard for him. While it had been truly great for her and Granny to have Al around the house, they could both see how much he missed Ed. When Riza showed up saying that Al would be able to accompany Ed on the rest of his mission, they had both been so excited neither of them had remembered to ask WHY, but that didn't worry Winry; there was plenty of time to explain things after catching up.

And there would be plenty of time to do that. She hadn't been in the house ten minutes, and she could see from Ed's gait that he desperately needed readjustments. From the way he'd been walking, almost tilting to one side, it looked like she had arrived just in time. If automail was messing with someone's gait something had gone wrong.

The handle of her suitcase almost seemed to burn in her hand as she felt its weight, knowing that she could help if she just had time and space to open it…

But no, she couldn't do that now; the trip had been disorienting and unpleasant, and it was getting late. Ed didn't know a lot about automail, but even he wouldn't let her work on him this late. That would come tomorrow. A lot of things would come tomorrow. In the morning Winry would have to deal with trying to work in this dark, dusty house that smelled like dry rot. Tomorrow she would have to figure out how to communicate with half a dozen people she couldn't understand. Tomorrow would bring all kinds of problems.

Right now, though, it was enough to drink this strange-tasting tea and listen to Ed and Al chatter happily at each other, while Ed bumped his knee against hers every once and a while, like he had when they were still in school.

/

/

So yeah that happened. Welcome Winry and Al to the scene! They sure will have Opinions about what Ed's been doing, huh?

I keep thinking I'll have something interesting to say here but I keep... not. Having that. What do people want from author's notes these days, anyway?

BTW, I'm still at BuffPidgey on tumblr where i appreciate attention and hoard any praise thrown my way.


	16. Chapter 16

Hi I'm not dead! I've passed the busiest part of the work year for me, so hopefully we can have back once monthly updates at least. I also, as I say often these days, want to wrap this story up in like... 5-ish chapters. That would be nice. In the meantime, I'm going to keep writing, keep trying to do good work, and keep wondering if there's some way to finagle more money out of somewhere. I wanna give my kitties some good good food, you guys. They deserve it.

Anyway I'm glad the sun is back (for now, until the summer heat comes in and I regret my life choices), I'm writing more these days.

 **Chapter warnings:** Mostly canon backstory stuff

/./

Lt. Riza Hawkeye might have explained to Sirius what exactly her group was doing in his house, but the memory was under a merry layer of firewhiskey by the next morning. That was a little concerning, but only so much as he really wanted to know what an Amestrian solder was doing in his house. The memory issues were only to be expected with how much he'd been drinking last night. Sirius was well aware of his limits.

Regardless of memory, in the weak light of the winter morning the facts were these: there were at least two people under his roof that couldn't speak English, Sirius was playing host, and a host provided for his guests. Which meant that he needed to see about some translation spells.

Which meant talking to Hermione.

She informed him that it was likely that the younger Amestrian set would be still asleep. According to her, they had been talking well into the night. Ron chimed in then around his bacon, adding that they had kept him up a good while.

"They're lucky they're not near the twins," he concluded. "If _they'd_ been kept up there would be payback already planned."

Well, at least he could help the Lieutenant. Spell specifics acquired from Hermione, Sirius set out to fulfill his duty as a host.

Halfway up the stairs the screaming started, and Sirius charged full out up the rest of the flight and down the hallway, where Ginny's startled shriek had evolved into yelling he could only half understand. He could hear Ginny, and Elric, and… the new voices, all yelling at the top of their lungs.

Ginny was grabbing Elric by his shirt and trying to shake him, while the new girl – Winry – was trying to do the same thing. Behind the group that looked about three words away from an all out brawl, the other new… kid… loomed over everyone, wringing armored hands.

"TY NE RASSKAZAL IM –"

"AND IT'S JUST _GONE_?!"

"Pozhaluysta – "

"YOU DID NOT NEED TO KNOW!"

"O SVOYEY RUKE!?"

"Uspokoysya –"

At least nobody was bleeding.

A quick _muffilato_ wasn't quite enough to stop them, but it would keep that bloody portrait from waking. As he approached, Ginny and Elric were still squabbling, but the other two – the two who were presumably completely new to magic – were looking at him.

The suit of armor said one muffled echoy word, but Elric dropped his conversation with Ginny immediately, tension singing through his body until his gaze focused on him. Once Elric saw it was Sirius who was approaching, he relaxed, and muttered something to his companions.

Despite being ignored, Ginny let the argument fall instead of going for the throat like she would have with her brothers. The blonde girl standing opposite Ginny watched him approach, a petulant frown on her face. She still had a death grip on Elric's shirt with one hand.

"I would appreciate it if you all wouldn't –"

For the first time since he'd arrived on the landing Sirius got a good look at Elric, and with a feeling not unlike falling off a broom he felt that he understood what Ginny had been yelling about.

"Elric. Where is your arm?"

Ginny turned to once more glare at the kid. "Yes, please TELL US."

Elric sighed, looking away down the hall. Behind him, the suit of armor nudged him.

"He asked a question, brother." The echoy voice was still high, sounding too young and small to be coming from a frame of that size.

"I lost it, yes? That is why it is gone."

The suit of armor made another displeased sound. "Polite," it – he? – said.

Winry turned to Elric and shook him, making a strident demand in Amestrian.

Sirius was reminded why he was up here in the first place. A headache started creeping its way up through his sinuses. "I believe this would be easier if Miss Rockbell could understand us. And- does… ah…" here he paused, looking up at the suit of armor figure looming over the group. "I apologize, but I cant' recall your name…"

"Al – Alphonse Elric."

"Alphonse, would you like a translation spell?"

"No, thank you. I study while brother is gone. I will learn fast."

Alphonse was very polite. Sirius had to wonder if he was actually related to his brother. As well as… "I do apologize if this is rude, but things have been moving rather quickly here and I'm not sure how much sleep or firewhisky I've had in the last day or so, but I have to ask. Why are you in a suit of armor?"

"That was going to be my second question," Ginny informed the room as the tone in the room immediately shifted from merely awkward to something deeper. Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his head from exploding. He hoped it worked.

There was a hushed discussion in Amestrian that Sirius very badly wanted to interrupt with a translation spell, but it was over before he could raise his wand. Elric – probably best be thought of as Edward now – said, "There was. An accident with alchemy." His sentences were choppy, like he was trying to pry the words from the back of his throat. He locked eyes with Sirius, and the next words came more easily. "I told you about it. It was a long time ago. Al wears this armor because of that. I lost my arm because of that."

Well. Shit. Sirius didn't have much to say to that. He had been aware of what the kid had been messing in. To learn the price of that meddling shouldn't be as off-putting as it was.

Despite the record scratch in his mind, a voice from the corners where the extra magic lessons from his family were kept whispered that if Alphonse was what he thought he was, it was no wonder Edward was able to figure out the connection between Harry and Voldemort.

He pushed that voice back to the dark where it belonged, forcing thoughts of highly illegal and unethical magic with it. Instead, he focused on applying the translation charm with wand movements as crisp as he could make them.

/

"I don't believe you," Ron said flatly.

A brave thing to say to Ginny Weasley, Harry thought, but then Ron _was_ a Gryffindor. And it did sound a bit suspect – Ed had punched all of them at one time or another, during D.A. meetings, and his fists had certainly _felt_ real.

"I'm telling you," Ginny said in a voice that was the calm before the storm, "that he was missing an entire arm."

"We all know that he's pants at actually vanishing anything, and the other Amestrians don't know any magic," Ron pointed out. Well, he was the one who grew up with Ginny. If anyone would have immunity to her threats it would be him. "So how, exactly, would he be missing an arm?"

"He said it was an alchemy accident," Ginny snapped. "Come with me and see!" She grabbed the collar of Ron's shirt, and started walking.

As she passed, she grabbed Harry's sweater as well. "Another eye witness won't hurt," she remarked while dragging them up the stairs.

Once they cleared the second floor, Harry was able to see a shape slumped against one of the bedroom doors. The shape's head lolled towards them and Harry realized the shape was actually Ed, who was sprawled on the floor in such a boneless manner that he wondered if Ed had passed out again.

But then Ed gave a nod, which relieved a few of Harry's anxieties.

Ginny dragged them all the way to Ed's feet before she released them in order to rest her fists on her hips as she looked down. "Now something's gone and happened to your leg. D'you want to tell me what happened to that, too?"

Ed shrugged. "Same thing. Alchemy accident."

There was something off about Ed's shrug. Harry traced the line of Ed's shoulders and came up… short.

"Where's your arm?"

Ed glared at him. "Did not Ginny tell you? It was an alchemy accident."

"Sure," Ron said, resting his arm on Harry's shoulder and leaning in. "But, last time I saw you, you had a bloody arm there, mate. Where'd it go?"

"Winry has it," Ed muttered, jerking his head back at the closed bedroom door. Listening closely, Harry could hear strange mechanical sounds coming from within. "It needed – needs adjusting. So," he thumped the strange wooden leg on the floor. "I have a… spare for now, while she works."

"Works on what?" Ron's voice was climbing into the upper octaves, and Harry had to agree.

A door further down the hall opened, to reveal Ed's strange armor-clad brother. He clanked as he strode forward, shaking his head.

"Brother, you are making fun," he said in an accent that reminded Harry of Ed's broken way of talking back in the summer. "Maybe this is why you get into many fighting."

Ed huffed and looked away. His brother continued, "There is a thing in our land that Winry is very good at, it is – replacement arms and legs of metal. Because of… accident, brother has no arm, and no leg, so Winry make the new ones. She is very good."

"The best," Ed muttered, still not looking at anyone. His flesh foot tapped at the armored boot, making a hollow ringing sound. "Introduce yourself, I think they have been forgetting your name with all the yelling last night."

"Ah- I am Alphonse Elric, but you can call me Al. Ed is my older brother!"

"Why do you wear armor?" Ron asked, a question that Hermione would have smacked him for, if she were there and not doing homework or knitting or something.

Ed finally turned his attention to the conversation, and shared a very meaningful-looking glance with Al. The look had 'I'm not telling anyone anything' written all over it, and Harry could feel the anger burning its way from the coal in his stomach.

The burn climbed up his chest as they exchanged words in Amestrian. Harry closed his eyes and tried to count to ten, to ignore people deciding to keep secrets right in front him him, but it wasn't working very well. Al's voice snapped out a phrase that Harry couldn't begin to understand, cutting across whatever Ed was saying. It was hard to ignore these things when they were being decided for him right in front of him.

"If then Mr. Sirius knows, all should know!" Al declared in English, the sudden understandable sentence drawing Harry back to the here and now. "Your letters say you do not know why there is fighting and then you think to do this! Brother, this is very why it happens!"

Once more, Ed looked away.

"I think –" Al started to say, but the door Ed had been leaning against opened.

Ed fell backwards as Winry poked her head out. Her blonde hair was tied under a bandana, and she had strange goggles pushed up over her eyes. In one hand, she held a screwdriver with the tiniest head Harry had ever seen.

She glared down at Ed, who was lying flat on the floor now, and at Al. A few sharp words in Amestrian and both boys were muttering what Harry could only imagine were apologies.

"I think we should move," Harry said, looking between Winry threatening Ed with a screwdriver and Ed cowering on the floor.

Harry generally tried not to feel amused at other peoples' pain, but he had to admit, that memory would put him in a good mood for a very long time.

/

Ginny had come to get her, with a kind of determined tilt to her chin that Hermione saw mostly when things like the D.A. came up. Or when people talked about You Know Who.

"Come on," she had said. "It looks like we're finally getting answers."

So Hermione had followed Ginny to a room where Harry and Ron were sitting in overstuffed armchairs across from one of the new Amestrians – the one in armor who was probably Edward's brother – and Ed himself who –

"Where is your arm?" she gasped as soon as she had a good view of the scene.

"That's what we're here to find out, it seems," Ginny informed her, and claimed her own overstuffed armchair, which left Hermione the one directly to the left of Edward's armored brother, who at nodded politely at her.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Alphonse Elric. You can call me Al."

"Nice to meet you, Al, I'm Hermione," she said, mostly on automatic as she looked up into eyes in the helmet that seemed to glow.

Harry cleared his throat. "I think we were going to get answers, finally," he said. "Al said Ed would tell us about the, uh, the arm. And the leg."

"The leg?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up as her gaze went down to Edward's legs. One of which… was, actually, fake. It looked to be wooden, like an articulated mannequin's appendage. "What –"

Edward scowled down at the leg as he tapped it roughly against the floor. Al made a small squeak, which Edward ignored. "Winry made this," he said. "And she makes my proper automail leg, and arm."

"How about you start at the beginning- what is automail, and why do you even need it?" Ron demanded.

Harry leaned forward. "You know my life story," he said, "in a briefing or something. Now you tell me yours. Fair's fair."

"I told you about Resembool before," Edward said. His voice was even as he spoke. He seemed calm, but he wasn't looking at any of them, instead looking down at his leg. Or, his fake leg. "Is a small town, not a lot of people. I lived there, with Al, and with our Mother. Until one year, she is sick. Very sick. She died."

"Oh, Edward, I'm sorry-" Hermione tried to say more, but he pressed on.

"We were very young, but we – we wanted to see Mother again. See her smile again. And she always say we were so good with alchemy." Edward closed his eyes. "A few years later, we find a teacher. She is amazing with alchemy, and she agrees to teach us. We learn a lot from her. So much."

A sigh echoed from the armor where Al is sitting. "Maybe too much. Maybe not enough. She says not to do this, but we did."

"What did you do?" Ginny asked. Her face was blank as she listened. Hermione admired her composure.

"In alchemy there is one thing that is – a law, one thing alchemist may not do, ever. Life goes only once."

"You're necromancers," Ron hissed. His fists clenched on the arms of his chair."You tried to raise the dead!"

The brothers didn't try to deny it, and Hermione could feel the cold feeling of uncertainty making its spiky way into her belly. She had read about wizards and witches who had tried to do that.

"So, it backfired, did it?"

"Not just that, Harry. There's a reason all those spells are considered Dark. Trying to go against the flow of life and death can change people. Warp their minds," Hermione explained. "Every witch or wizard who has tried it went utterly mad. The worst ones, they had a few years to try and gather more power before they were destroyed by their own megalomania."

"Like Voldemort?" Harry asked. "He was something like a ghost for a long time, before last summer."

"Maybe – I haven't exactly studied that sort of thing myself. But..." she hesitated. "None of the histories mentioned someone losing only limbs. They either went mad, or were utterly destroyed."

Al murmured something to Edward in Amestrian, and when Edward answered in the same language, Al nodded.

"Destroyed, yes," he said, and took his helmet off.

Ginny shoved at the armchair as she pushed herself to stand. "Where's your body?" she demanded, voice pitched higher than she probably would have liked.

Before Al could answer, Ginny strode across the room, and wrenched the neck of the armor down, giving them all a better view of the completely empty chest cavity.

Distantly, Hermione could hear Ron murmur under his breath, "Never trust something unless you know where it keeps its brain."

"Where is it?!"

"Get off!" Ed hissed, grabbing at Ginny's grasping hands, standing to try and lever her off, but Ginny had at least 3 inches on him, and two arms. One shove dislodged Edward, sending him stumbling backwards an unsteady step before he crashed to the floor.

Ginny shrieked as Al's metal body surged up. She lost her grip, staggering back a few steps.

"Brother!" he said, his voice echoing even more now. "No more, no more here." He knelt down, putting a hand out for Edward, sprawled on the carpet.

Edward grabbed it, and pulled himself up. Hermione was struck by how… awkwardly he moved. Gingerly maneuvering his wooden leg around, hesitantly putting his weight back on it. It seemed utterly unreal, compared to the decisive, aggressive way he usually made his way through the world.

A tense sort of stalemate settled in the room, winding its way around everybody as Edward settled himself back in his chair, and Al followed. Ginny still stood, though Ron pulled her back to their side of the room so she wasn't looming over Edward anymore. Hermione shook herself. She'd been just watching everything, waiting. She was a prefect, just like Ron. She should be helping here.

"Let's try this again," Hermione said, before anyone else could think to speak. "Ginny – we've had some bad experiences with… people who have put their souls… in objects."

Harry didn't talk a lot about what exactly had happened in the Chamber of Secrets, but Hermione knew enough, and it was easy to see what a number Riddle's Diary had done on Ginny; even in second year she had become vastly more outgoing than the almost fainting thing she had been in first year.

"Let's be rational about this. We're getting answers now, so let's have a proper explanation now."

/

"I came back awake to… Al was gone," Elric said. The story so far had been a pretty predictable one, in Ron's opinion. He wasn't sure how this impressive teacher of theirs hadn't figured out what they were planning, or Winry or her grandmother. Then again, from what Ron knew Amestris was mostly muggles, so maybe they just didn't know better.

"So, I find the armor, I make the seal. I go back. I give my arm for my brother's soul."

This, however, this was different. Elric had survived, and had gone back to try and get his brother back. Ron listened, and on some level, he was imagining what had happened to Elric and his brother, when they were younger than first years even, and it was horrible. On another level, Ron wondered if Al losing his body had been the key to them both surviving. Hermione was right – as she usually was – most wizards who tried necromancy ended up destroyed or mad. Maybe spreading the risk helped? Or maybe it had been alchemy?

There was a moment of silence as everyone mulled over the story Elric had just told, and Ron realized just how messed up this all was. He was trying to puzzle out _necromancy_ , for Merlin's sake, and the two people in front of him had lived it.

Elric heaved a great breath, and launched back into his tale. "Al brings me to Grandmother Rockbell. Her family is skilled with – medicine. With –" he kicked out his fake wooden leg that moved very much like a flesh leg. "Is called automail. Fake limbs. So, I decide, get the surgery, and then I go to the military, to see the books they have. More books than a boy sitting in small town. So yes. That is the story."

"Right, so, because you mucked around with souls before, that's why you know about them now?" Harry asked.

"Something like that, yes," Elric replied, instantly going from slightly detached to the look that Ron had learned was guarded suspicion.

Next to him, the other Elric- Al, sighed. "Yes, brother knows many things now. I do not think however he knows how to answer polite." Next to him, Elric – now that there were two of them, Ron supposed he would have to start using first names – sat up.

"Al! Is only –"he began.

"You do not tell anything, yes I know," Al finished for him. "I am here not a day, and I see what is happened here. Then you get mad when there are questions."

Edward didn't even try to come back from that. Ron decided that Al was now one of his favorite people in Grimmauld Place.

"Speaking of questions, I have one," Hermione pipped in before there was another glorious round of telling off from Al, sadly. "You said 'surgery' earlier. What exactly is this surgery?" She asked the question like Dad sometimes asked things of her, or Harry, but with a tone that was entirely Hermione setting you up to show you just how wrong you were.

Edward pulled at the neck of his shirt, exposing part of his shoulder and the metal glinting softly on his skin. It looked _embedded_ in the scar tissue surrounding it, like some kind of transfiguration gone terribly wrong.

"You have to put port in for the automail. And, for it to move the nerves have to be connected to wires," Edward explained, like that wasn't an image from a nightmare.

"You mean, that metal was implanted in your skin?" Harry asked. "Kind of like… a hip replacement?" He sounded less horrified than he should have been

"Oh!" Added Hermione, also sounding under-horrified, "And the nerves thing might be something like a pacemaker!"

Ron looked at Ginny. She, at least, had the decency to look properly freaked out.

The conversation ended with Ron learning more than he had ever wanted to know about medicine and muggle technology. But at least he didn't cry.

/

When the knock on her door came, Winry wanted to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath, gently put down the nerve wires, and her small pliers, and went to go see what Ed wanted this time.

His automail wasn't done, just like it hadn't been done the last dozen times he'd asked, and working in this house was… less than ideal. Sunset was scheduled to be at least an hour before it was back at home, and the sunlight she already had to work with was watery at best. She had asked for electric lights, and Ed had informed her there were none.

So. Less than ideal conditions.

"Ed, your automail –"she said as she opened the door, but stopped when the person in front of her was actually taller than she was. "– still isn't… done."

"Sorry to interrupt," Sirius Black said. He must have cast one of those 'translation spells' for her to understand him. "Only, I heard you were working with muggle tools, and it's been… quite a while since I saw any."

"Sorry, I don't have muggle tools," Winry said, stepping back to let the man in. "There are for automail."

Mr. Black's eyes widened as he spotted her table. "Pliers!" he gasped.

Winry knew people who liked mechanical things, but this was the happiest she'd ever seen someone get over a regular pair of .3 needle-nose. Not that she could really blame him; tools were very cool and she _did_ have some of the best around.

Then Mr. Black moved right past her and looked to be about to touch her work. Winry wasn't very proud of kicking him in the back of the knee, but she wasn't about to let him touch the delicate process she was in the middle of.

He went down with a soft 'oof' and didn't move. He seemed resigned to spend his day were he had landed, and Winry couldn't really have that either.

She knelt on the carpet and put one hand gently on his shoulder. "Sorry, Mr. Black," she said. "But I'm in the middle of some important wiring and I can't let you mess that up."

"It's alright," he said, voice somewhat muffled by the carpet. "I got ahead of myself. It's been years since I tried to use any tools. Will you kick me again if I get up?"

"Oh! No, no no no," Winry hurried to reassure him.

Once standing, Mr. Black turned once again to her table, but didn't approach. He looked at the tools with the same air as Al looking at an apple pie. Like they were something he couldn't have. Winry wanted to roll her eyes. Why was she always dealing with over-dramatic boys?

"Sorry, it's just been quite a while since..." Black trailed off, still looking wistful.

Winry walked past him, leaning carefully against the table. She could get a better look at his face, and his hands, if he started getting ideas about her tools again. "You haven't seen tools around? Not even fixing things around the house?"

Black gave a sharp sound that might be called a bark of laughter in a kind light. "Oh no, my parents would never have done any mending, much less with muggle tools. I was, what, thirteen before I even saw a hammer."

Winry laughed before she realized he wasn't joking. "Thirteen? Really? What did you fix things with, then?"

"First, you're assuming anyone of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black ever fixed _anything_." He said it like a cuss, like he wanted to spit. "If we couldn't use a quick Reparo, we let the house elves do it. My parents were furious when they saw I had brought home muggle artifacts."

Ed had mentioned that some of the magic families over here were weird, but that just sounded made up. Like Black was trying to trick her. But the rueful smile that didn't quite reach his eyes that formed as the story about what his mother did after she found a hammer and wrench in his room told her this man was telling the truth.

There was a spring extender, a joint hinge, and a size .35 screwdriver next to her hand. She loved these pieces of metal, and couldn't imagine life without them. The picture Black painted of an existence where tools were treated like immoral contraband sounded like her worst nightmare.

The hinge was too small for Ed's new automail, Winry thought.

"Mr. Black?" she said into the silence that threatened to suffocate as it moved in after that story. She held out the hinge in one hand, the connecting screw cradled in her palm, and in the other she held the screwdriver. "Would you like to try to use a screwdriver today?"

/

Winry wasn't fond of distractions, but as she worked again, a gentle knock of metal on metal came from behind her every once and a while as Sirius sat and explored mechanics for the first time in almost 15 years.

/

The next morning Sirius was hovering around her workroom. Winry invited him back in with a smile, and loaned him a few more extra parts. To her surprise, Sirius had brought a few pieces himself. They were old, flecked with rust and caked with dust and cobwebs, but Sirius held them like a lifeline. Winry handed him some oil and didn't ask questions.

When people came to the shop with that expression, Granny had told her that they were working through their own story. "In the middle of a story," she had said, "You don't get to decide what part you play. You are invited in on their terms or not at all." So Winry let Sirius work.

/

There were many things Harry would have accepted seeing when he entered what Sirius described as 'yet another bloody useless study'. Professor McGonnagal here to give him more homework was one. A case containing a boggart he had to fight was another. Even a blast-ended skrewitt.

Professor Snape was not one of these things.

"Potter," he said, as if he had any business talking to Harry over holidays.

"Professor," Harry replied.

"Is that the kind of greeting you give, Potter?"

From his position in an armchair by the fire, Sirius scoffed. "Is that the kind of tone you take when you're a guest in _my_ house, Severus?"

Snape scowled. "The tone seems rather immaterial to the message I've been instructed to relay, Black."

"Well then, get on with it so we can get back to our lives," Sirius said, eyes lazily trailing away from Snape, one hand flapping dismissively.

"Very well," Snape hissed. His usually pale face was corpse-white, and his lips were pressed together so that they practically vanished. He turned slowly to face Harry.

"I have news for you, from Professor Dumbledore. During the coming term, you are to begin occlumancy lessons."

/./

Not sure what else to say down here except check out my tumblr at buffpidgey dot tumblr dot com if you'd like. I talk about this stuff sometimes.


	17. Chapter 17

Right, so my internet went out over the weekend so we're all very lucky I'm able to update tonight, there's that. I was also super distracted by one of my mutuals reblogging a bunch of GOT finale stuff. I don't do GoT, but spectating a media disaster is a long and respected tradition. I continue to be vindicated in my belief that the only good thing about that series is the dragons.

In other news, I'm horribly distracted tonight. I hope you guys like this next chapter.

Enjoy~~

/

.

/

The first time Ed had ever heard of occlumancy he was being asked to make a judgment call on it. Ed stared past Hermione and did some quick calculations on the odds of being able to delay talking about this until after he had finished breakfast. Judging by how she was slowly inching her way into his personal space and how Al was looking at him with that intent angle of his eyes, the odds were zero. Zero odds of being able to eat first.

He sighed and put down his fork, before turning carefully to face Hermione, who had caught him off-balance both figuratively, with this question, and literally because Winry hadn't given him back his arm yet.

"I don't know what occlumancy is, so I can't say if Harry doing lessons is good or bad," he told her, which resulted in a short (by Hermione's standards) explanation of how occlumancy was a field of magic used to keep people from magically poking through your head.

"This sounds very good to use for everybody," Al said, mirroring Ed's own thoughts. "Why is only Harry getting this lessons?"

"It can be very dangerous to be half-trained in occlumancy," Hermione informed them. "It's like leaving doors half open to your mind."

Ed chewed on his lip as a thought occurred to him. "Do you think Harry will study properly these lessons?"

"I'm sure he will!"

Hermione looked at Ed, expression painfully eager. Ed stared at Hermione. She broke off, rolling her eyes and sighing.

"He hates Snape, and Snape hates him. But I don't know what else to _do_!" she said.

Ed rubbed his fingers together, remembering the tingle of alchemical energy when he had investigated Harry's scar. "I think you leave that to me, maybe," he told her. "Your job is be student. It is my job to keep Harry alive this year."

"Yes, but that still doesn't tell me what I need to be looking out for –"

"Maybe you look out for eating breakfast," Ed muttered. "I am not seeing any eating here."

Al scolded him for being rude, but at least he finally got his food.

/

After Edward and his brother's bickering broke down into full Amestrian, Hermione left the table. True, she was supposed to focus on her studies, and she did want to do that, but she also wanted to be able to help Harry. If she could take Occlumancy for him, she would. Ron had told her, in a hushed voice her second night here, about how Harry had shuddered and twitched during the dream, how he had fallen out of bed and thrown up, clutching at his scar.

She wished she had been there, as moral support, if nothing else. Now all she could do was flit around trying to find as much information as she could. But even if she had all the information in the Restricted Section, she wouldn't be able to help with this. Well… maybe she could, but she didn't quite have access to the Restricted Section in Grimmauld Place to prove or disprove that theory.

Drifting upstairs to find one of the more palatable libraries in hopes of finding _something_ , Hermione spied Sirius making his way to the room where she knew Winry was working on Edward's metal prosthetics. Curious, she peered through the partially opened door, to see Sirius arranging various gears and tools on a small tea table behind Winry.

Winry herself looked surreal. She had on one of those jumpsuits auto-mechanics wore, an outfit Hermione was familiar enough with, but here, it looked completely alien. The practiced muggle utility clashed with the generations of accumulated magical flourishes of the ancestral home of the Black family. To complete the strange unreality of the scene, Winry was bent over what was unmistakeably a metal arm.

Sirius looked up, pliers in one hand, and froze. A flicker of something – shock, guilt, fear, maybe? – crossed his face, before he straightened.

"Ah, Hermione," he said smoothly, as if he hadn't looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Hello. I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Good morning," Hermione said, to be polite. "What are you doing here?"

"Miss Rockbell said I might use her equipment to tinker a bit. It's been… oh, ages since I was last able to."

"I told you, call me Winry!" came the distracted comment, in clear, unaccented English.

A small smile appeared on Sirius's face. "I put up a translation spell," he said. "Winry hasn't had time to practice English like the boys have."

"Oh, and hi Hermione," Winry added, waving a hand free of metal, but not looking up.

Hermione edged towards the large table, strewn with all manner of wires and bolts, screws and plates of metal. It had been ages since she had seen such detailed muggle tech. Her parents were dentists, true, but they weren't really ones to tinker at home, and besides, whatever Winry was working on looked much more complicated than the inside of a light fixture, while Sirius was working on something that looked delightfully like clockwork.

Sirius conjured a chair for her to sit in while she watched him construct his device.

"I didn't know you were into muggle things," she said.

"A deep family shame, to be sure," Sirius said as he spun a gear. The others turned in response. Pleased with whatever had just happened, he picked up some kind of jointed arm and some screws. "After I graduated from Hogwarts, I bought a motorbike. Eventually when I got it working again, I enchanted it so it could fly, mostly to keep the Ministry off my case."

Hermione listened avidly as Sirius absently told the story of how he managed to make a flying enchantment work with a combustion engine. She had known, in an abstract sort of way, that Sirius, and Harry's father, and Remus, had all been brilliant at schoolwork and spellwork, but hearing about the way Sirius had managed overcome flying enchantments' tendency to fail by linking the strength of the spell to refilling the motorcycle's tank was amazing!

From the corner came a chuckle. "You two remind me of Ed and Al," Winry said, lifting her arms above her head. Hermione heard her back crack five times as she stretched. "I can barely understand the words you're saying. Maybe that's the language, though."

"Ed and Al?"

"They like talking about alchemy. Well, when they were kids." Winry sighed, her shoulders slumping for only a moment. Then, she spun to face them with a wide smile. "They still go on and on about it. Especially Ed, he's such a nerd."

"Edward talks a lot?" Hermione had to ask.

Winry's smile slipped into a pensive frown, lips pursed. "He hasn't been talking to you? Aren't you and your friends supposed to be his – ah, what's the word – his friends, maybe?"

"No, he mostly reads, writes, and broods," Hermione told her. "It was a trial to get him to even agree to teach me alchemy."

"I'm not surprised, but – you're learning alchemy? From Ed? What's that _like_?"

Hermione thought about it a moment. "Well, it takes a bit more exercise than I expected, but I do quite like the challenge."

"Do you want to learn how to make automail, too?" Winry asked, gesturing at the metal skeleton of an arm behind her with a grin. "Or maybe I can snag one of your friends. That way Ed won't be the only one with an apprentice!"

"Oh, no, they're already bad enough about their schoolwork!" Hermione cried, laughing. "Don't distract them with something else!"

Both girls fell into giggles. Winry recovered first.

She turned back to her work table with a sigh. "It can be really hard to help, though, right?" she asked, not looking at Hermione. "I heard some of the stories of what happened to you, and your friends. Feeling like you're staying behind is hard."

Hermione's breath stuttered in her throat, like she had swallowed something wrong. "Yeah," she said. "Yes, it is. When you try to be prepared, and then things go wrong..."

Winry nodded, finger trailing along a scratch in one of the metal plates of the arm.

"Sometimes you shouldn't second guess yourself then."

Hermione squeaked. She'd forgotten Sirius was there. She turned to look at him.

His head was down, still looking at the small assemblage of gears that he'd somehow turned into something that looked like train wheels, with little arms that moved. He didn't look up as he said, almost to himself, "Sometimes you have to just… trust… yourself. Sometimes it does work out."

/

The voice came from the fuzzy darkness, much sharper than he would have anticipated for that time of night.

"Hey, Harry."

"Yeah, Ron?"

"How are you?" There was a pause. "I mean, there's been a lot going on. And I don't know if – well, someone should ask, and I'm your best mate, so, how are you holding up?"

Harry swallowed, suddenly unable to speak for all the words that were pushing to be said. He licked his lips, and said, "I'm alright, Ron. Thanks for asking."

Ron snorted. "Sure, sure."

Harry threw one of his pillows at him. Or, where he thought Ron was in the shadowy blur that was their room.

"It's not so bad," Harry insisted. "At least we know what's going on with Ed now."

"Yeah..." Ron didn't sound too sure.

"No, go on, what is it?"

Shadows shifted, and he could hear Ron shifting around, tugging covers this way and that, trying to get comfortable with the topic he was about to bring up.

"Hermione was right-"

"She usually is. Don't tell her I said that."

A pillow made contact with Harry's face.

"She was right," Ron continued forcefully pushing past where Harry interrupted. "Wizards who dabble with death and with soul stuff? They meet bad ends. Elric's been giving me a funny feeling since August. Now that we know what he did it makes sense, in a bad way. I don't know how I feel about… this whole thing. About him as a bodyguard."

Harry tried to squash the pillow into a small ball as he mulled over his answer. On one hand, yeah. Hermione knew what she was talking about when she started quoting history books, and Ron was backing her up on this quite vivid image.

But, Harry also remembered the nights he spent in first year sneaking out to the Mirror of Erised, just to _see_ his parents. Not hear them talk, not hug them, just see them again.

" _We just wanted to see Mom smile again."_

If he had been that age and thought he knew how to bring his parents back, would he have been able to stop himself from trying?

Would he have stopped visiting the Mirror if it had still been in the hall?

/

Back in Amestris, Winter didn't exactly feature the sun, but it sure as hell was better than this watery shit, Ed thought as he stared blearily out at what passed for sunlight in England. At least the wizards tried to make up for this failure of climate with nice big fire places. Sure he couldn't nap outside, but at least there was a source of warmth somewhere.

Maybe it was just psychosomatic, but Ed always felt better after getting the automail reattached if he could feel heat seeping into his skin. After the first round of surgery, Winry and Granny had alternated ice packs and hot water bottles to control the swelling, and Ed had always been more fond of the hot water bottles. Reattachment wasn't nearly as extreme as any surgery, but it still hurt, and made his bones ache for a day or so after.

Not enough to really stop him from doing anything, just enough to be noticeable and annoying.

And speaking of annoying…

Al might sigh at Ed for thinking that Harry was annoying, but 1: Ed's bones hurt, and, 2: It's not like Ed said it out loud!

Harry hovered awkwardly at the doorway and cleared his throat.

Ed lolled his head across the overstuffed armchair he was reclining in to look at him. "Yes, hi."

"I was thinking –" Harry started, then stopped. "You have your limbs back."

"Yes. I do."

"I thought it might have been a longer process, or something." Harry peered across the room, trying to get a better look without moving and being obvious about it. Ed wished he would just come over and look.

People stared whenever his automail was exposed, and at this point Ed wished they would stop pretending that they weren't being rude. A part of him wanted to ask what was so interesting about a guy with automail, there were plenty of people with it after the war, but another part of him knew that it was pretty rare for a person his age to have automail, never mind the quality automail that Winry built.

"No, is reconnected with one big shock. Is all," Ed told him. He was probably dropping a few articles here and there in his English, but it was hard to care when the fire was so warm.

"Wait, shock?" Harry asked, looking concerned. "You mean it hurts?"

Ed shrugged. "Is nerves being put into wires. You think that is nice time?"

"Don't you get painkillers for it?"

"No painkillers, if something is wrong then there is chance it will be too late when mistake is discovered."

Harry grew very quiet at that. "Oh."

'Oh,' indeed, Ed thought, looking back at the fire.

The silence stretched on so long Ed almost thought Harry had left, until he took a deep breath, and said, "I need you to tell me what your plan is. For the rest of term."

"What is your mean?"

"I'm taking Occlumancy lessons with Snape. Umbridge hates me, and wants everyone to think I'm mad, or kill me. Voldemort is out there, somewhere. I need to know what your plan is to deal with this."

Ed opened his mouth to answer, but found no answer forthcoming. He closed his mouth again, and pushed himself more upright in the armchair as a thought wormed its way through his brain. He was Harry's bodyguard. His job was to keep this kid safe. And, presumably, give Harry some piece of mind about surviving the year. And here Harry was asking how Ed was going to keep him alive.

Except, it wasn't just a question of _how_. It was also a question of _if_. Harry didn't have enough data to predict if Ed was going to do his job.

Harry was rightly pissed off at all the adults in his life who seemed to be making a living keeping secrets from him, and who threw him into this pit where several people were quite literally out for his blood. Meanwhile, Ed wasn't exactly acting much different from those adults.

Once again, Al's observations on people turned out to be right.

Damn Mustang. Things probably wouldn't have gotten this bad if Al had been allowed to come with in the first place!

It seemed he had been silent for too long. Harry opened his mouth to add something, but Ed cut him off.

"Yes, yes, I think maybe we should talk."

/

"You could stay longer," Sirius said, watching unhappily as Winry packed up her tools.

He'd been moping for the last three days, after the big Christmas dinner, and then even more after Ed had gotten his arm and leg back. (He'd promptly somehow manage to SCRATCH it on some magic something-or-other, and Winry had almost had to knock him unconscious, but fortunately someone with sense managed to fix her precious automail.) She had promised to write Sirius regularly, but it was still depressing to watch him deflate like this.

"I can't," she said. "I have patients back in Resembool, and besides, I need to get back and help Granny."

Sirius heaved a sigh and left. Winry frowned at the empty doorway. She'd gotten the impression that Sirius had come from a well-off family. Weren't rich families supposed to have manners?

Though, if she were going to be all alone in this horrible house, she'd be in a bad mood, too. Even Ed, who was very cavalier about traipsing in and out of her life, was moping about her leaving.

Hopefully getting regular letters from Amestris would make life better for Sirius. She'd also promised to send him his own set of wrenches and screwdrivers, the thought of which had cheered him up for a bit. Short of bringing him back to Amestris with her, that was all she could do.

Frankly, Winry wasn't entirely sure why no one wanted to go through with that plan, which was logical. Sirius was a wanted man in England, but in Amestris no one would know him from Bob.

Ok, that was a lie. She knew why Sirius was staying. He was staying to look after Harry, and Winry couldn't blame him for that. From what she'd heard and seen, Harry needed it.

Winry wasn't too worried about Harry, though. He now had Ed _and_ Al on his side, along with Hermione, whom Winry had also promised letters to. In addition to being pen pals with two very interesting people, she now also had two additional sources of news for her boys. It had been a very productive trip, even if it was ending way too soon.

/

Riza carefully folded her latest notes she had taken on the state of Fullmetal's mission, which seemed to be going largely as expected with regards to his research. Ed's management of his cover was also proceeding as predicted. Which was to say for both of these things that Ed had managed to keep to himself until poking the biggest hornets' nest he could find.

Somehow, after almost half a decade of dealing with this, no one else at the level to command Fullmetal had seemed to pick up on this pattern aside from Mustang. Or if they had, no one was acting like it, in that they kept asking Mustang if it was possible for 'Fullmetal to show some restraint'.

But at least this time Ed's… style was easy to obscure to the higher ups back home, as the most damage from this latest mission was to himself. Not that that was outright said in any of the reports, but Riza had watched the boy grow for a few years now, and she could see the shadows passing behind his eyes. She also had the privilege of being Winry Rockbell's confidant on this journey, and the girl had expressed not insignificant worry about the state of Ed's muscle tone the few times Riza had convinced the girl to get some sleep between working on the new automail.

The news about Ed's physical state was what worried Riza the most. If Ed didn't take care of himself so far away from home, there were far too many complications from automail that could quickly turn very serious without proper treatment. There was no doubt that the school's medic, Madame Pomfrey, was competent (Potter's continued existence certainly proved that) but Riza (and Winry, for that matter) had some doubts about her ability to treat any potential automail-related complications seeing as how these wizards so removed themselves from any aspect of society that didn't directly relate to magic.

Riza dreaded the thought of having to tell the Rockbells that the military had taken yet another loved one from them.

However, Al would be going back to Hogwarts with Ed. If Al's mere presence didn't motivate him to take better care of himself, then Al would step in and deal with the situation himself. Sending the brothers off on missions on their own had been the way they worked for years now. Whatever method they had, it had kept them alive so far.

Now it was a matter of a couple thousand miles and trust.

/

Everyone seemed to start moping as soon as the Amestrian ladies left, not that Harry could blame them. The Elrics were missing the connection to their home, and Sirius realized that in about three days he was going to be left alone in his horrible house again. As for Harry himself, he wasn't looking forward to going back to Hogwarts for the first time in his life and it was honestly upsetting.

Hogwarts had been an escape from his horrible life with the Dursleys, but now there was so much horrible stuff going on at Hogwarts… a part of him wanted to go back to the Dursleys where he was expected to clean, cook, and be quiet, nothing more. His relatives didn't expect him to save the world, or to try to overthrow a government, or even get good grades. It was predictable.

Horrified, Harry shook himself. Actually wanting to go back to the Dursleys? What was _wron_ _g_ with him?

No, he would go back to Hogwarts and face whatever Umbridge and Snape would throw at him. And if he couldn't handle it, he would run away to Grimmauld Place and live with Sirius.

It was easier to face going back when Harry remembered that Ed seemed to be talking again. Their fireside chat had clarified a few things for Harry. He still wasn't completely sure where he stood with Ed, but now he was sure that even if Ed didn't like him, he absolutely hated Umbridge, and right now that as good enough for Harry.

Some points he was still a bit skeptical about. Ed was only their age, after all, but, Al had only sighed when Harry had voiced his doubts.

"Brother has done with less time this sort of thing," he said, sounding weirdly resigned.

It was a strange thing to say, but at this point Harry was willing to take this honest conversation as a victory.

/

The trip back to Hogwarts was more chaotic than it had to be, in Ron's opinion. There was a lot of shouting the night before, done mainly by Ed. It seemed that he had an issue with temporary shrinking spells. It took him an hour of detailed debate with Sirius and Mum, during which Hermione used the Extendible Ear and took furious notes on the interactions between charms and alchemy arrays.

Finally it seemed that Ed relented and allowed Al to be shrunk and hid in a compartment of his trunk that Ed created specifically using alchemy, not allowing any adjustments from expanding charms. He didn't let anyone else even touch the thing, and Ron could hear Al trying to cajole good sense into his brother in Amestrian. Unfortunately it didn't stick.

Ed spent the entirety of the train ride with his trunk on his lap, glaring furiously at everyone in the compartment, even though everyone currently in the compartment wouldn't dream of touching his stupid trunk. Getting off the train was a relief. Listening to Hermione convince Ed to let his trunk be taken up to Gryffindor Tower was yet another trial in the long line of Elric-related torment Ron had had to endure in the last 24 hours. When he left, he could hear Al's echoy voice saying something in a placating tone, not that he could make it out. By then, Ron and Harry had decided that this wasn't worth the bother and had gone up to dinner.

Half way through dinner, Hermione arrived, face bright pink with the cold. She strode through the Hall and threw herself on the bench with a huff. The first thing she grabbed was the teapot.

"So where's Elric?" Ron asked. "Er, Elric… s?" Ron asked.

"Edward decided to carry his trunk up to the tower, and I couldn't stop him," she said. "Where he and his trunk are now, specifically, I have no idea."

Ron let her eat after that.

Later, in the boys' dormitory, Edward was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't look over when Ron and Harry entered; he looked half asleep.

"Did you even get anything to eat?" Harry demanded.

"Hm?" Edward sat up and rubbed at his eyes. "No. Had to get settled."

Ron leaned against the door, making himself a potentially obnoxious doorstop to prevent anyone else walking in. "Where is your brother?" he asked.

"No one was looking in the hall, so I let him out," Ed told him. "I will find him tomorrow in the hall where the vanishing room is. Make sure the spell wears off."

"Fair enough," Harry said. "You think he'll be able to help with… anything?"

Ed nodded. "I… don't bring Al in my plans like this often. He is not part of military, but this is too big, too long." He rubbed a hand over his face. His left, Ron noted; the flesh one. "Al is right with that."

Harry walked across the room, to where the house-elves had laid out his threadbare pajamas. Mum had offered to get Harry better ones, but Harry said that the old ones were soft and still good enough. He did relent to Ron's pestering to get new trousers at Hogsmeade when the old ones crept above his ankles.

"You're going to – I mean, do you think you can do it?" Harry asked. "Your plan for Umbridge, I mean."

Ed snorted. "Of course. She thinks I am stupid foreigner because I have accent. She only is here now because before I needed to read in the library." He made a gesture, as if sweeping away that idea. "Now there is no more to find there. Now I have… free time"

/

"Potter, stay behind."

Harry suppressed a sigh. The first day back of Potions, and Snape just had to drag it out. But Harry stayed seated as everyone else around them packed up and got to escape. Ron and Hermione shot him sympathetic glances, while Draco Malfoy gave him an almost distracted sneer.

The classroom was nearly empty when Snape said, "In what language does 'Potter' also mean 'Elric'?" He directed his perpetual displeasure to Ed, who had packed up his things, but hadn't moved.

Ed raised an eyebrow back at the man, and leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. "The same world where I am charged with bodyguard," he said as the door closed behind the last students.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I have no plans to harm the boy."

"Then there is no problem I am here." Ed looked completely calm, but Harry could see the way he moved his feet under the desk. Minute adjustments; getting ready.

Snape threw another withering glare at Ed, who completely ignored it, then turned back to Harry. "As a cover for your occlumancy lessons," he said, "you will tell your classmates that you are taking remedial potions."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He could _see_ Malfoy's glee now, but he held silent. Snape would probably only take that as encouragement.

The rest of the instructions were given in the same acerbic tone, but that was nothing new.

What was new was the way that Ed waved and said, "See you then," as they left.

The door closed before Snape could react, and as they walked down the hall it became clear that Snape wasn't about to lose face by chasing after Ed in order to ask what he meant.

"Are you actually planning to come with me?" Harry asked. Snape might be too proud to get clarification, but that didn't mean he had to be left in the dark.

Ed shrugged. "Last time you go to a teacher alone you come back with bloody hand. I will not make same mistake twice."

/

.

/

I keep thinking I'll put something interesting down here, but I keep forgetting.

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing the Grimmauld Place scenes. I'd have lingered on this stuff more, but quite frankly I need to keep moving on this project. If I linger, I won't be able to actually finish this thing.

I'm also experimenting with On Purpose Foreshadowing this chapter which is very exciting for me. Been doing this writing thing for ages, and only now I'm learning things like "writing outlines" and "alluding to the future". What a time we live in.

Also: really enjoyed messing with Ed's automail stuff. I need to get back to that one au idea I had...

Finally, should I start a twitter dedicated to tweeting random ass fanfic recs with little context or coherency of fandom?

As always, find me at buffpidgey dot tumblr dot com.


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